Secrets and Shadows
by Thalia Kendall
Summary: DONE! Heaven knew when he could see her again. But there was too much danger, and with the wartorn world, there could only be coded letters delivered by others, and hope for a better future. DG with minor ships.
1. Strawberry Angel Food

A/N: iAy caramba~! Yes, I started another chaptered fic ^^; Am so bad and ebil, I know... but the bunnies were merciless, MERCILESS, I tell you! This one is actually a 'main' pairing (although there are tons of my fun and happy minor character ships on the side). Draco/Ginny, to be specific, although it hints at Neville/Pansy, C. Warrington/Su Li, Roger/Cho, and so on and so forth. I hope you enjoy, though!  
  
Disclaimer: Please do not sue me today. There is only enough caffeine here to get me through my homework. And suing an uncaffeinated Thalia is... just not good. I would end up in prison while you end up in the hospital.  
  
~*~  
  
"A hundred days had made me older   
  
Since the last time that I saw your pretty face   
  
A thousand lights had made me colder   
  
And I don't think I can look at this the same   
  
But all the miles had separate   
  
They disappeared now when I'm dreaming of your face   
  
I'm here without you baby but you're still on my lonely mind   
  
I think about you baby and I dream about you all the time   
  
I'm here without you baby but you're still with me in my dreams   
  
And tonight it's only you and me..."  
  
"Here Without You" by Three Doors Down  
  
~*~  
  
He used to look in the mirror far more often. That was back in the day when he was rich, and simple-minded... and young.  
  
He was vain then. He had a right to be. He could afford to be.  
  
He was young and beautiful then. A modern-day Adonis...  
  
With his own goddess, eyes like hazelnut coffee deep and warm, and hair like crimson passion made tangible and silken.  
  
He glanced at his hands, roughened by work. This cottage was out of the way, and he was almost a hermit. His hair was silvered by the hard sun, and despite the numerous charms, his skin was brown, almost swarthy.  
  
He wasn't an aristocrat.   
  
Loneliness, though, had always been his life. Well. Except for THOSE times.   
  
He wasn't the elegant lover. No picture of his muse adorned the splintery wooden walls, unpolished, of this cabin.  
  
He used to jeer at Hagrid's cabin.  
  
There was a knock on his door, and he stiffened for a moment, listening carefully. One long knock, followed by two short ones, then another long one. Finally, a rapid tapping of fingernails on wood. Drawing a breath at the signal knock, he walked over and opened the door.   
  
The young woman was standing on the doorstep, her hair and part of her face hidden underneath the overhanging hood she wore. The hood of a Muggle parka, white leather lined with fur. It was not hard for her... any of them... to learn the art of blending in.  
  
She pushed the hood back as soon as he'd closed the door silently behind her, and a dark blonde head with a slightly weary face, hazel eyes smouldering jaded, a slightly upturned nose wrinkling at his over-long hair, appeared. She gave a little smirk. "Eating instant macaroni and cheese again, I see."  
  
He shrugged slightly. "I can't cook."  
  
"I'm well aware. I brought you something." She held out a covered platter, and even as he thanked her and took it from her gloved hands, she remarked. "Strawberry angel food... your favourite."  
  
He stilled for the briefest of moments. It was not easy to live like this. Amongst the Muggles that he had been brought up to despise so deeply. In complete isolation except for this friend, a world where almost everything meant something else.  
  
Strawberry angel food. She was referring not to the cake on the plate... strawberry for the red hair and sweet lips of the girl he loved... and 'angel'... what that girl was. What he'd called her, back in the day when he used to be able to see her, when they made love in the private quarters that Snape afforded all his Prefects.   
  
He uncovered the platter to reveal, yes, a cake, the smell of sugar and strawberries filling the small cottage, but he abruptly dug his fingers under the cake, getting crumbs and icing on his hands, and felt parchment under his fingertips. Pulling it out, he read it briefly, a faraway look entering his eyes, before he gave the blonde woman a curt nod in thanks, and threw the missive into the nearby fire. Both knew why he did not perform the spells. Except for wards and emergencies, he seldom used magic any more. Magic was detectable.  
  
A brief silence, and then he gazed at his friend. "I can't thank you enough for this, Pansy."  
  
She smirked again. "Well. You DID take me to the ball that year, despite the terrible robes that my mother sent. SO many frills... I looked like a perambulating wedding cake!"  
  
He chuckled slightly. "Well. It was either you or Millicent Bulstrode as 'acceptable' choices. And I preferred someone with at least SOME intelligence."  
  
She cackled slightly at that. "Why, thank you. And here I was thinking that it was because Millicent could probably have broken you in two like a china doll..."  
  
"That too," he made an exaggerated grimace. "Want to eat with me?" he gestured the cake, and the plate of instant macaroni and cheese on the small, chipped table.   
  
"That's all right, I'll pass," she replied, raising an eyebrow. "Not that I don't adore you culinary masterpiece over there, but I have a date tonight."  
  
Draco nodded slowly, and took her hands in his for a brief moment. Just a light, brotherly squeeze, getting strawberry angel food cake all over her gloves and smirking slightly at her disgruntled expression. "Tell Longbottom to treat you well... or else he shall have to answer to me."  
  
"He knows," Pansy replied, before re-adjusting her hood to shield her face once again. A pink cashmere muffler had the dual purpose of warmth, and hiding her nose and mouth from view. The rest of her face was thrown in the shadow of the hood.   
  
He leaned over and kissed her cheek, a cool gesture of friendship and gratitude. "Thank you, Pansy."  
  
"Goodbye, Draco," she replied quietly, before moving towards the door again, pulling it open. "Happy Christmas, and good luck."  
  
The door closed behind her, and he turned back with a small sigh towards the table.   
  
Later, full, he sat on the small, worn sofa with its squishy, ugly brown cushions, the taste of synthetic cheese sauce, of strawberries and sugar, and of solitude, in his mouth. And his eyes focused upon his arms, bared in the firelight, the sleeves rolled up to reveal a black tattoo of a skull and serpent.  
  
A Death Eater living amongst Muggles.  
  
A Death Eater alone... shrouded in secrets, unconnected...  
  
A rogue, more than met the eye. Danger... dangerous. Double. A double life.  
  
It was a choice that he'd made, and with the Slytherin instinct and determination for survival, he would live with.  
  
There was someone waiting for him to come back to her someday, after all. And even the hardest and iciest of storm-gray eyes would soften at the warmth and lovelight in hers. 


	2. Bittersweet Nightshade

A/N: Thanks to all the lovely people who reviewed! This here is chapter two, from Ginny's perspective. Hogwarts has changed... and the story of how the two got together, as well as why there are so many new teachers... will become apparent later :)  
  
Disclaimer: Only Mary Sues claim to own HP characters. Despite what it might seem, I am not a Mary Sue.  
  
~*~  
  
A new gray dawn. A new morning. A new day of brave, empty smiles and classes to go through. She was Head Girl, and especially after that battle last year, there were a lot of obligations. A face of optimistic courage to keep, along with the secrets.   
  
The girl, almost eighteen, sat amongst her housemates at breakfast, the pancakes barely touched on her plate, sipping her pumpkin juice every few seconds. Her face was calm, a blank sort of expression seamlessly in place, and her gaze rested upon the high table. Yes, the teachers still sat there.  
  
They were not the same teachers as before. The battle last year had seen to that. Sure, the Death Eaters had been driven away, many apprehended or killed, but...  
  
There had been a heavy price to pay.  
  
Sitting at the end of the staff table, farthest away from the Gryffindors, was a young man, dark hair falling into moody blue eyes on a serious, reserved face. He taught the same class as his former Head of House, although aside from a handful of former Quidditch rivals, there weren't many who were TERRIFIED of the quiet Professor Montague. He was only in his early twenties, and even as such, he wasn't the youngest of the staff. The house of ambitions and secrets that he headed gave him dutiful respect, but it wasn't the easiest of jobs, to say the least, to endeavour to keep the tensions down.   
  
Next to him, one who had never gotten along with him when they were students. Angelina Johnson, Charms professor. Another replacement for someone who was no longer there. Professor Johnson, whom Ginny had to bite her tongue not to call by her first name sometimes, kept a firm chin, and could even manage smiles and laughter despite everything. Many wished for her strength... and perhaps it was the case that she had someone there for support. Montague said something to her, and she gave him a slight smile before replying. Ginny watched, just a hint of wistfulness in her eyes. She wished that she could be like Angelina, in some ways.  
  
Amongst which were to get a Perfect score on the Charms NEWT... and also to have someone there. Visible. Tangibly present.  
  
Someday, though...  
  
Though Angelina Johnson taught Charms, Ravenclaw House was not within her jurisdiction. The Head of the house of learning and wisdom, though, was even younger than herself. A former Quidditch player, no less, there to coach the sport.  
  
There was still a woman teaching Quidditch and flying, but Cho Chang wasn't anything like Madam Hooch. The former Ravenclaw, always soft-spoken, taught skills and theory and played the part of referee with fairness, but her face was pale, more worn than a young woman of twenty's should ever have to be. After the evening flights that she took, she would come back with the barest hint of silent tears on her face, shouldering an old broomstick that had been given to her by her lover, back when they were still children.  
  
Her lover was gone, in the thick of the war, an Auror facing death on a daily basis. With Ravenclaw logic and the understanding that came that he HAD to do this, Cho had let Roger Davies go off to war, managing a smile when she'd kissed him goodbye and maintaining a positive tone in the letters she wrote. But she WAS only 20. Still young. So many of them were still so young...  
  
Su Li's face, unlike her friend's, was not anxious. The Defense professor's face was almost stony, a hint of bitterness that did not become her glinting in the dark eyes that caught every misdeed in her classes. She wasn't nearly as docile as Cho, and to those who might have remembered her as a sweet, bright young student back in the day, she seemed to have become hard, some of the witty good humour lost under no-nonsense determination and a cold hatred of Death Eaters.  
  
The balance of her happiness and anguish rested in St. Mungo's, in the tightly closed eyes of a man who had not moved for a year, unconscious, alive but only just. Another price of the war, one out of countless. She kept going, because she was determined to, and if Su Li put her mind to something, she'd do it if it killed her.  
  
Several of the professors that she'd grown up knowing WERE still there. Professor McGonagall, her hair gray now, was still teaching Transfiguration, Head of Gryffindor House. Madam Pomfrey, Professor Trelawney, Professor Sinistra and Professor Vector, along with Hagrid, Madam Pince and Filch. All still there. Professor Dumbledore, his blue eyes far more solemn these days, still sat at the center.  
  
And then, closest towards the Gryffindors sat a fellow with round cheeks and wide dark eyes, who had always been a friend of Ginny's. Neville Longbottom had been appointed as successor to the only teacher whom he'd felt completely comfortable around. He'd seen more than almost all of his classmates, but somehow, his manner was shy and diffident rather than jaded. Ginny caught his eye for a brief moment, and he gave her a small smile.  
  
They were, as far as everyone else knew, good friends. Former housemates and all, Neville having been a friend and roommate of the Head Girl's brother, them having once upon a time gone to the Yule Ball together. Now that all of her brothers were gone, most believed that Neville was filling the role, making sure that the youngest of the Weasley clan was safe and happy.  
  
And in a way, he was.  
  
Breakfast ended, Ginny gulping down the last of her pumpkin juice and a few bites of her cold pancake. Walking slowly out of the Great Hall amidst the pack of rowdy Gryffindors, she almost did not hear Professor Longbottom calling her name.  
  
But he repeated it patiently, once, twice... and she stopped. Turning around, she walked up to him. "Yes?" Her eyes were wide, filled with an odd sort of hope.  
  
"Miss Weasley," his voice was all propriety and professionalism, although there was hidden meaning in his steady eyes, "If it is convenient, I would like it if you could help me this afternoon. With the bittersweet nightshade."  
  
She gave an almost inaudible gasp, before nodding quickly. "I'll be in Greenhouse five at three," she affirmed.  
  
He gave a small smile and nod, and walked off to prepare for his first class of the day, while Ginny, her mind whirling, walked towards the Charms corridor.  
  
Bittersweet nightshade... a poison, and an antidote. Dark green leaves, and glossy crimson berries.  
  
An enigma and a mix of joy and pain, light and darkness.  
  
Neville was probably the only one who knew the truth of THAT, in this school.  
  
He was also her only hope.  
  
Her only way of knowing things.  
  
The link to the forbidden, and the messenger.   
  
Classes passed in a blur as she counted the seconds until three o'clock.  
  
~*~  
  
Ginny all but ran out of History of Magic, quick, staccato footsteps ringing down the hallway, and made her way towards the doors that led outside. Greenhouse one, greenhouse two...  
  
Taking a deep breath at the door of Greenhouse Five, she composed herself. Just a good student, Head Girl... going in to help a professor with a plant. There was nothing to look excited over.  
  
Her face was almost blank aside from the shimmer in her eyes when she pulled the door open.  
  
He was waiting for her, bent over the emerald vines of the bittersweet nightshade, plucking ripe red berries and putting them into a basket, counting under his breath. She cleared her throat, and he turned.  
  
"Hello there, Ginny," he greeted her politely.  
  
"Hi," she breathed out, "Er... about the nightshade..."  
  
"Yes," he smiled slightly, "The nightshade... would you be so kind as to hold up this vine while I clip away the dead leaves on the bottom? I think that the first-year Slytherins gave it a bit too much water..."  
  
She nodded, and walked over until she was standing next to him. He bent down to pull a pair of shears... a small roll of parchment attached to its handles, out of a pocket. Before the first brown leaf was clipped, the parchment had exchanged hands...  
  
~*~  
  
Later, as Neville put the last of the bittersweet berries away, Ginny, her eyes solemn, fed the parchment to a venomous tentacula, her eyes with a faraway expression.  
  
"Tell Pansy thanks for me," she finally said.  
  
"I will," Neville promised. "Now, it's time to go in. Thank you for your help today, Ginny."  
  
It hadn't always been this way. 


	3. Warmth in Winter

A/N: A mostly fluffy chapter, taking us into Ginny's 5th year and Draco's 6th. It's mostly shippy, but hey, the fluff-lovers can bask in this chapter before the angst resumes (and yes it will resume)...  
  
I would also like to dedicate this purely D/G chapter to two w00bieful people. Mynuet/Sharlene, high goddess of D/G at whose feet I wibble in worship, and Dove, my loffly co-author and fellow shipper whose immense talents never cease to amaze me. I loff you both. 333  
  
Disclaimer: They own each other, and hopefully, this chapter makes that obvious.  
  
~*~  
  
It was her 5th year when it started, really.   
  
She knew, when she, following Hermione into Prefect meeting and looking up to see forbidding and yet magnetic gray eyes looking... almost glaring, at her.  
  
She'd stared back, bemused, for a few moments, before narrowing her eyes slightly. He had no BUSINESS to be looking at her like that. She had never done anything to him... at least, not that she recalled, or that he didn't richly deserve. He'd always been the first to strike.  
  
He didn't expect her to glare back, it seemed, for then, the gray eyes widened, before he abruptly looked away.  
  
It was then that Head Girl Cho Chang of Ravenclaw and Head Boy Kenneth Bundy of Hufflepuff walked in, and it was to business. Ginny, rapidly taking notes on her new duties from that point on, almost forgot entirely about the brief exchange of glances... glares.  
  
Until the meeting was adjourned, and Draco Malfoy brushed past her on his way out the door.  
  
It was just a brush of robes against robes, but she almost trembled.  
  
And she hadn't the foggiest idea why.  
  
~*~  
  
Among the most important of Prefect duties, along with leading the students and patrolling the hallways, they had to hold tutoring sessions in all the subjects, for the younger students. As luck or fate would have it, perhaps due to the myriad cooking lessons that she'd had from Mum, bent over a pot on a stove, she found herself tutoring Potions.  
  
Draco Malfoy also tutored Potions. It was the one class where his marks sometimes exceeded Hermione's, although Ron and Harry tended to dismiss it as Snape's blatant favouritism.  
  
Harmony didn't seem to be an option, at least not at first. He would jeer at her, and she would snap back at him with a fervour and a fury that she'd never felt around the likes of Harry... and the younger students would watch, half-fascinated, half-apprehensive, as their two tutors furiously diced ginseng and pulverized cobra fangs, their tempers slowly boiling like the simmering cauldrons on the fire.   
  
Either that, or both would be stony silent, cold, clammed up... and she'd feel an inexplicable irritation at his taciturnity. They were supposed to work TOGETHER! He wasn't supposed to pretend that she was INVISIBLE!  
  
And after the silent sessions, as the students filed out of the classroom and they cleaned up, perhaps internally seething, perhaps thinking a thousand unbidden and forbidden thoughts, she'd frown to herself, troubled and not quite knowing why. At those moments, she did not notice his eyes on her, fixed on the almost-imperceptibly trembling lips.  
  
It wasn't until nearly Christmas when it had all changed.  
  
It had been a cold day, she remembered. The winds outside had been blustery and rough, the snow blowing in everyone's face. Hagrid had brought in the Christmas trees to be decorated, and his face had been reddened by the wind.   
  
The dungeons, where Potions tutoring sessions were held, had been close to frigid, and Ginny kept renewing the Warming Charm that she'd put on her slightly threadbare robes.  
  
It had been all right during the tutoring itself. The fire on the cauldron had kept her warm, and Draco (she'd stopped calling him 'Malfoy' in her mind) had been rather quiet. But after the fires had been extinguished, and they'd been left to clean the mess that the group of 3rd years had left behind, she started to shiver.  
  
She wasn't about to renew the Warming Charm while he was there, though. Not when he'd undoubtedly make some sort of snide remark about her inability to afford robes like his, warm, fine... lined inside with something soft, the silver clasps bright in the dim light.  
  
And so, she certainly wasn't expecting it when quiet footsteps approached her from behind, and then, there was an added weight upon her back. A cloak... too large for her, a man's cloak. Black velvet, soft and warm as a caress and yet as heavy as a promise upon her shoulders, lined with sable. She'd gasped, her eyes wide and her face flushing involuntarily, and looked up to meet his almost-impassive face.  
  
He'd curtly told her to keep it until she got something else to keep her warm, and though she was about to protest, he abruptly turned and walked out of the room.  
  
She didn't know what he had seen.  
  
A small, spritely girl, slender fingers and the tip of her delicate nose reddened slightly by the cold, her cheeks flushed to a soft rose, coppery hair shimmering slightly in the weak light of the room as those crimson lips parted and those huge brown eyes widened like a doe's. Her pallor stood out against the ebony backdrop of the cloak, almost luminous.  
  
The next day, she was so out-of-sorts and unsure of what to think or where to turn, that she didn't notice Pansy Parkinson watching her fixedly, as if mentally calculating something or another, a wry sort of almost-smile on her face. She avoided looking at Draco, and of course didn't notice the latter conversing with Pansy in an earnest manner, as if asking for a favour.  
  
It was only a week later, on Christmas Day, that everything came back to her, and she sat amongst her presents, a dark blush upon her cheeks, holding one opened box in her hands and rather speechless.  
  
It was simply wrapped, a black box with the fluid script of a fashionable clothing line "Seraphim" embossed in silver on the top. A plain silver ribbon on the top. And inside, nestled in layers of silver tissue, was...  
  
A cloak, heavy black velvet and lined with fur, the lines of which were different from the one that Draco had drapped across her shoulders that day. A woman's cloak, fitting so well it might have been tailored for her. Along with a pair of leather gloves soft as butter to the touch, and a handsome, fashionable fur cap, milk-white against the bright hair.  
  
And a note, so simple, so curt...  
  
"I want my cloak back now. ~D"  
  
Ron had been completely mystified as to who could possibly have gotten his baby sister such an expensive present, but when all 'potential' boys who might have had the intention of 'sucking up' had been rooted out and negated (it couldn't have been a Slytherin, of course... no Slytherin in his right mind would splurge money in this way on a member of such a prominently Gryffindor clan), he merely shrugged, grinned a little, and went about his business. Hermione raised her eyebrows a bit, but the younger girl said nothing, and kept her face blank when she'd been asked, and the 6th year left her alone as well.  
  
And when she'd gone, snuck to outside the Slytherin locker rooms at the end of a practice to wait for the captain to emerge, she wasn't sure what she was going to do.  
  
She had to thank him, somehow...  
  
And when he emerged finally, his teammates apparently having not noticed the small girl half-hiding behind a nearby pine tree, he'd stopped. She was wearing the cloak and the gloves and the hat, and she was blushing once again.  
  
He stood in front of her, giving her a long, thorough once-over, before smirking very slightly. He took his cloak back from her outstretched hands, and the snow started to fall again around the two of them. Finally, of an impulse, she put two gentle hands on his forearms and stood on tiptoe, intending to kiss his cheek.  
  
But he'd turned his face, and her kiss landed on thin, chiselled lips that were softer and warmer than she would have expected. And her eyes went wide for only a moment before his arms reached around her and yanked her none-too-gently close, returning what she'd originally meant as a light, friendly kiss with an intensity that curled her toes. And any thoughts that might have trumpeted upon the wrongness of it all was drowned out by the feeling of rapture and exhilaration filling her core, the voice of reason muffled by the little moan that came from her throat as his tongue traced the inside of her lips.  
  
And after that, it had accelerated like a train thundering down the track that was her heart.  
  
A week after the first accidental kiss she told him that she loved him. He'd seemed stunned before kissing her deeply, the two alone in the private quarters that Slytherin Prefects were granted. A fortnight after that, she fell asleep in his quarters after two long bouts of lovemaking, an inane little smile on her face. He watched her while she slept, and curled a lock of ginger hair around his finger. He would joke at times, as she lay with her head pillowed on his bare chest, that her prat brother wouldn't approve, and she would retort that what her brother didn't know couldn't hurt anyone, and even if ickle Ronniekins found out, she had enough blackmail on HIM that it would all be even. He would laugh then, kissing her nose or her cheeks or her bare, creamy shoulders, and call her a conniving little wench. She would giggle and stroke his hair and say that it was all his bad influence.  
  
And she thought that it would be forever, because she was idealistic and optimistic like that. 


	4. Ignorance Is Pain

A/N: And bring back the angst, people! w00h00!! In which chapter Draco's life takes a sharp turn, Ginny is shocked by the circumstances, and... they come to some sort of understanding.  
  
Disclaimer: When I own them, start writing your eulogies. They'll kill me in my sleep for the angst I put them through.  
  
~*~  
  
The first time that Ginny noticed that things might have changed was the start of her 6th year.  
  
Six months of secrecy and sex and silent looks across the throng. She had developed almost a sixth sense when it came to knowing when he was watching her.  
  
She could read the meanings in those sullen-day-sky gray eyes.  
  
But her 5th year ended, and... though she hadn't expected him to correspond, exactly, with her over the summer...  
  
No owls, and no word, and when she went to Diagon Alley with Ron, Hermione and Harry, she told herself that she wouldn't be obvious.  
  
But... of course... white-blond hair was very visible and she couldn't help noticing it, right?  
  
Especially when it emerged, two heads of it, from the fork in the road that led from Knockturn Alley.  
  
She bit her lip as he looked around, and if Ron noticed her sudden silence, he said nothing. And when those tingles started in the back of her neck, she knew that he was watching her, and turned...  
  
And he looked away, and his face was blank.   
  
And for a fleeting, terrifying moment, she thought maybe it was true... that Slytherins couldn't love, after all.  
  
~*~  
  
By the time the Starting Feast was in place, she knew a few things.  
  
He was Head Boy, nothing too unexpected. She'd watched as he conferred briefly with Snape, before going to the Slytherin table and sitting down next to Pansy Parkinson.  
  
He would be working extensively with Hermione, because they were Head Boy and Head Girl. And he still sneered at her, because she was loud and bossy and a know-it-all, in his eyes, someone who swallowed books to look smart.  
  
There were several new Prefects, of course, and the dark-haired, blue-eyed girl who walked in after her, a 5th year Slytherin... looked vaguely familiar. Emma Dobbs, Ginny thought her name was... who gave her an almost-smile.  
  
But then there were other things, too.  
  
She'd lost Ron and the rest of her housemates in the throng, and as she'd gone on her way to the loo, a thin hand had snaked around her wrist and pulled her none-too-gently through a nearby door.  
  
And before she could even shout out in surprise, firm lips had fastened over hers, but familiar, and she realized that he'd grown a bit taller, for now he had to bend his head down slightly and she had to stand on tiptoe to reach his lips. And there was the scent of cleaning solutions and Mrs. Scower's All-Purpose Magical Mess Remover, because they were where they weren't supposed to be again and it was wrong and yet she didn't CARE if Filch burst in on them...  
  
But he'd pulled away before either of them could go up in flames and loosen each other's robes too much, and then there was light falling upon her stunned face, and the head of white-blond hair, walking away.  
  
And a note tightly rolled up that he'd somehow tucked up her blouse sleeve.  
  
~*~  
  
She'd taken a long time to unfold her napkin and spread it in her lap, but before she'd bent her head over the hearty chicken soup, she'd met his eyes and given a discreet nod. The note was nowhere to be seen now, of course. But she would meet him, and she remembered the password.  
  
She smiled at Hermione, and told the Head Girl that she would take the Prefect patrol that night, since she, unlike the other girl, didn't have Advanced Arithmancy first thing in the morning. Hermione, already buried in the books before the classes even started, merely nodded, and turned back to murmuring about Calcular Studies and Integral Geomantic Principles while flipping through pages upon pages of meticulous notes.  
  
And Ginny had almost run through the patrol hallways, curtly telling the students to go back to their dorms, and when the clock struck midnight, she took off, almost giddily, for the direction of the Dungeons.  
  
His Head Boy Quarters were fine, lit with a few candles. As she stepped in and into his arms, she finally smiled.  
  
"I've missed you," she whispered, but before she could say more, he was kissing her again and then she didn't think at all. A summer of nothing and now it was just overwhelming, her skin suddenly too hot and the taste of him on her lips... she could feel the tension in her belly increase, even as she buckled at the knees, tumbling onto his bed, backwards, gasping for breath...  
  
And yet, when she, her blouse opened to the waist, reached for the buttons of his robes, he stopped her, his face suddenly apprehensive. "Gin..." her name was like liquor, smooth and fiery spilling over his tongue, "Wait... you have to... understand..."  
  
"What must I understand?" her voice was thick now, her hands reaching for him. He wasn't going to slip away... he WASN'T going to slip away from her...  
  
"Just... promise me that you'll understand... I had to, and it's not what you think..." But he'd never hesitated before, and a sense of foreboding broke into her anticipation. And she impatiently promised, before she unbuttoned and unfastened and lifted the fabric away...  
  
And she gasped, a sudden feeling like frozen lead replacing the blood in her veins.  
  
Dark Mark. DARK MARK DARK MARK DARK MARK DEATH EATER DRACO KILLER DARK MARK DEATH EATER DRACO ENEMY...  
  
She stumbled, stared... and then clumsily sprang off the bed, unmindful of her breasts bared through the unbuttoned blouse, her face pale as paper as she prepared to flee.  
  
He WAS taller, and he was faster, and even as he caught her around the waist none-too-gently with one arm, he cast a spell that Silenced the whole room with the other. "I TOLD you," he hissed in her ear as she struggled, bare feet scrabbling to kick him, "You have to UNDERSTAND..."  
  
"What's there to understand?" she shrieked, trying to escape his iron grip, still flushed and dizzy from the intoxicating kisses, "You've become a Death Eater! You're..." her voice lowered, "You're no longer my Draco. You're HIS."  
  
"What you must understand," he said in a cold voice, "Is that I'm NOT his. I'm me. And you have to LISTEN. Damn it all, Weasley, can you stop jumping to conclusions and stay still? I don't like you bouncing around so much... unless we're shagging," he tacked on insolently at the end.  
  
She continued to struggle, but he pushed her down, straddling her waist and holding her wrists above her head. "Now, listen to me," he said in a low voice. "Yes, I got the Mark. No, it's not a phony to scare my mother with. But... it's not what you think, either."  
  
She was silent, and he continued, "Ever heard of the term 'double agent'?"  
  
And about half an hour later, the storm having passed, her face was pale and solemn. He was silent, his dangerous tale told, and finally, almost timidly, she reached over towards him again, now without the lustful mindlessness of earlier.  
  
She brushed slender, smooth fingertips over the mark on his arm, and carefully traced the outline of the skull and serpent. And when she lifted up her big brown eyes and gazed into his face, they were calm, with the slight sheen of tears.  
  
"Does it... does it hurt?" she whispered, her warm breath stirring the fair hair by his ear. He clenched his jaw for a moment, before he reached for her, hands lifting to tangle in her hair and lips seeking hers in need. She sighed slightly against his mouth, and gradually, moved her hands up his arms to clasp behind his neck, gently stroking his hair as they kissed.   
  
And when they parted for breath, she gave him a tremulously sweet smile, and unbuttoned her uniform skirt.  
  
And when Ginny returned, sneaking into Gryffindor at dawn with flushed cheeks and shadows underneath sparkling eyes, she mused that Slytherins loved, after all. 


	5. Friendships

A/N: It's been a while... and no, I'm not talking about the Staind song that they used to play every five minutes on the radio. But... yes, foreshadowing in this chapter, along with hints at other ships besides D/G. I want to thank those who have reviewed, you people rule!   
  
Disclaimer: Several logical progressions...  
  
Thalia owns Draco Malfoy. Thalia incites wrath of Ginny Weasley. Ginny's protective!brothers at the sight of their sister in tears get all hotheaded and angry. Charlie sics dragon on Thalia. Thalia dies.  
  
Thalia owns Draco Malfoy. Thalia becomes a Mary Sue. Intelligent readers and fandom bitches armed with sporks mob and lynch her. Thalia dies.  
  
Thalia owns Draco Malfoy. Thalia gets sued by JKR and otherfolk. Thalia is forced to resort to prostitution to pay for it all. Thalia gets AIDS. Thalia dies.   
  
But, miraculously, Thalia is still alive, kicking, smiting and referring to herself in the third person. So we can only conclude that she doesn't own Draco Malfoy. Or any of the other Potterverse characters. All right, then...  
  
~*~  
  
"You're lucky," Draco Malfoy, sitting almost languidly in the Prefect's office, said to the girl who was calmly flipping through her Herbology text across from him.  
  
Pansy rolled her eyes slightly, "And what brought up THAT idea, Mr. I'm-Head-Boy-And-I-Have-Everything?"  
  
Draco gave a slight sneer. "YOU know what."  
  
"She's worth it to you, though, to sneak around in secrecy and all the danger." Pansy murmured in an analyzing fashion, "Otherwise you wouldn't be shagging her. It's not as if Tracey Davis and Daphne Greengrass don't want in your trousers. And I have it on authority of Zabini and Nott that both of them are reasonably shaggable. It's not as if your father's going to give a damn about you philandering about here and there with those two girls..."  
  
"How about we just don't talk about either my father, or terrible Davis/Greengrass/Zabini/Nott... er... quadrilaterals? And focus on the fact that I'm wallowing in envy that YOUR parents don't give a damn about whether or not you join any... extracurricular dopey religious cults?"  
  
Pansy gave a slight, pleased smirk. "Well. My father HAD contemplated joining, back in his day. But my mum forbade it because Bellatrix Black did, and she hated Bellatrix. Silly reasons, I suppose... but I'm quite glad."  
  
Draco scowled slightly, "Bellatrix is pleased about MY joining. She told me that she looks forward to watching me Crucio the family of a nemesis. Like SHE did."  
  
Here Pansy's eyes narrowed somewhat, and the expression on her face wavered... slightly. "If I were Neville, I'd scratch her eyes out. After ripping her hair out by the roots. After I set angry veela upon her. Veela are supposed to hate other women sometimes... for being human and loved."  
  
"Ooh, catfight," Draco remarked drolly, but not with much energy. And then he paused, and slowly stared. "You just called Longbottom 'Neville'." It was a simple, almost flat statement. "You don't even call any of the blokes in OUR house by their given names, aside from me."  
  
Pansy froze, and she buttoned her lips.  
  
"You kept my secret, I'll keep yours," Draco muttered evenly. It was the politics of Slytherin House, "I won't laugh at your taste, and you won't laugh at mine. Although you might wish to be more careful about your word choice in the future."  
  
She nodded slowly. "I take your meaning, Draco."  
  
"How the deuce, though? I've never seen either of you together..."  
  
She pointed to the Herbology text that she'd spread on the table in front of her, "Found a plot in one of the greenhouses. White poppies, my favourite flower. Started to study there... and then met him. He planted them... turned out that his mother'd carried them on her wedding day."  
  
"And you two started talking, you got to know him, felt very foreign and terribly soppy feelings of sympathy and benevolence and care, and Longbottom turned out to be a better shag than one might give him credit for," Draco interjected.  
  
"...Something like that," Pansy said dryly. "And if you dare do anything about it I'll kick you in the groin." The last, though, was spoken without malice.   
  
"Far be it from me to risk ending up as a eunuch," Draco replied with a wry look at his friend, "No intention of gaining a squeaky House Elf voice. Not to mention, Gin's an absolute vixen in the..."  
  
"Thank you, that's enough."  
  
~*~  
  
"You're back late," Ginny Weasley, 6th year Prefect, remarked idly as the Portrait Hole opened. Dean Thomas, whom she'd dated briefly before the two had decided that they were better off as friends, gave her a sheepish grin.   
  
"Was having a study session with Padma," he replied, rubbing the back of his neck with a lean, sensitive brown hand.  
  
"Studying what, how much noise it takes to break through a Silencing Charm?" Ginny asked, raising an eyebrow in a manner she'd picked up from... someone. Dean chuckled slightly.  
  
"Pot calling the kettle black, hmm?" he asked quietly, "Come now... who is it? I know it's someone... and not from our House."  
  
"What do you mean?" Ginny gave him a mystified look.  
  
"Ginny Weasley, you stare across the Great Hall during meals, though I'm not sure whom at, and you smile to yourself and don't even notice it."  
  
"I see," Ginny replied evenly. Perhaps she shouldn't be surprised... of all the boys in Ron's year, Dean was certainly one of the most observant, artistic soul that he was. "That's my business, but don't worry about me."  
  
"I won't," Dean said with a smile, "You look happy. Worried at times... but hey, supposedly overprotective big lugs of brothers make any girl who's in love worried about her boy's safety."   
  
Ginny smiled, though her eyes were solemn. The threat of overprotective big lugs of brothers was actually the least of her worries.   
  
"Oh, smile, Gin," Dean said coaxingly, "Whatever it is, it'll be fine, I'm sure. You should enjoy life to the fullest and all those things, you know. Live every day as if it's your last, that's what my mum always said. Don't expect that any of us will be dying any time soon, but the woman's got a point."  
  
Ginny smiled slightly, and Dean grinned at her. "Here, I'll show you something... been working on it for a long time."  
  
She peered curiously over as he took something out of a leatherbound portfolio, and sucked in a breath. On a sheet of parchment, the fine, thick, creamy type used for books, was the start of what would be a magnificent drawing of Padma Patil. Dean had been meticulous and painstaking, and with every careful stroke of the pencil had depicted the play of light shimmering in the Ravenclaw's hair, or the sparkle in her eyes. Padma-in-the-picture was sitting, slightly day-dreamy as she idly flipped through a book, and though Dean had finished drawing her face, he had only started on her slender upper body, or her graceful hands. Realistic... and yet somehow idealized, elevating the pretty girl to a gentle, breathtaking beauty. And Ginny realized that that was how Dean saw Padma.  
  
"It's stunning," she whispered, "Padma'll be so flattered when it's finished."  
  
"It's... it's not so much a present for her," Dean started, "As... something for me. Or... us. I'm hoping to finish it within another week or two."  
  
Ginny nodded and took another look at the unfinished drawing, and Dean patted her shoulder.  
  
"Whoever he is, you're as beautiful to him... as Padma is, to me."  
  
Ginny gave him a small smile and a brief hug, and walked upstairs to her dormitory. 


	6. Facades

A/N: A chapter which gives more insight on another Slytherin (another one of my favourites), and we see the interactions of Slytherins amongst each other. Dust and shadows and complexity and facades indeed... also, ominous hints of upcoming turmoil. *evil grin*  
  
Disclaimer: I don't own any Slytherins. They own me. Sneaky, snarky buggers...  
  
~*~  
  
Overhead on the Quidditch pitch, a young witch was flying, her long brown hair in a ponytail, whipping through the air. Emma Dobbs, Slytherin Chaser, hummed a little tune to herself as she did a few laps alone.  
  
Or perhaps not quite alone. Noticing a figure sprawled on his back in the Gryffindor stands, gazing upwards at the sky, she slowly flew over.  
  
"Well then," the 5th year smirked down at Seamus Finnigan's face, "Here to spy, perhaps?"  
  
Seamus turned his head and gave her a slight smirk in return. "Hardly."  
  
"I didn't think so," Emma dismounted and landed, sitting down next to his head and giving the sandy locks a light pat, "Gryffindors don't use such dishonourable tactics."  
  
"We don't need to," he retorted impertinently, and she glared down at his grinning face.   
  
"You lot just prefer to do things the hard way," she said dismissively, but her eyes were glinting, "So... how are things going, then? Studying for the NEWTs?"  
  
Seamus plopped his head into his friend's lap and gave an exaggerated pout, "You're sounding like Hermione. Or my mother."  
  
"I'm neither," Emma poked him in the arm, "You might notice my distinct lack of flying into tizzies at rambunctious redheads... or the lack of an Irish accent."  
  
"Making fun of me accent, are ye now, you saucy English lass?!" the boy's eyes widened even as he deliberately exaggerated the accent in question.   
  
"No, you silly Irishman," she rolled her eyes, "But really... how are your studies going?"  
  
Seamus sighed, "All right. Hate Potions with the fire of ten thousand dragons, but that's to be expected. At least Transfiguration has become easier." Idly plucking a quill out of his pocket, he changed it into a small white lily, and handed it to Emma.  
  
"Thanks," the girl took the flower from his fingers, idly fingering the petals for a few moments, "Anything else new, then? Blackmail-worthy scandals of Gryffindor House? Swooning fangirls wanting to become part of your harem?" The last was spoken lightly, though her eyes widened just a bit.  
  
He snorted. "What harem? My so-called harem, at present, consists only of... well, no one. You're probably the only female friend I have who isn't currently seeing someone, and you're not exactly the fangirl type."  
  
She smirked, "Would you like it if I were?"  
  
"I'd run screaming and demand to know who you were and what you did with the real Emma Dobbs," he replied immediately, "And besides, you gave me a run-down YEARS ago of things that Slytherins do and don't do."  
  
"And 'Slytherins don't fangirl' was amongst them," she concluded. But then, 'Slytherins don't fall helplessly in love, especially not with Gryffindors' was also on that list.  
  
And it HAD been constructed years ago.  
  
~*~  
  
As a rule, Draco always went on his Prefect rounds with one of the other Slytherin Prefects, just as Ginny always went with Hermione. Pansy, pleading procrastination on a rather lengthy Herbology essay (leading Draco to believe that she hadn't been utilizing Longbottom to full potential), was tucked away in her personal quarters, and after a covert shared glance with Ginny over Granger's shoulder, he went off in the direction of the Charms corridor with Emma Dobbs.  
  
He'd met her parents before. Millium and Eyonia Dobbs weren't as high-ranking as his father in the circle, but still part of the inner elite. She was, at least as far as he knew, the perfect little daughter. Mostly quiet, kept to her own house, Quidditch, Prefect...   
  
She wasn't yet of age to receive the Mark, or even to make such a decision.  
  
Not that most children HAD a decision.   
  
Emma glanced at the uncommunicative Head Boy out of the corner of her eye as they made their way together down the hallways. Safe topics... even amongst their own kind, Slytherins mostly kept to safe topics. She politely inquired if he'd done anything about bringing their Keeper, who had a habit of tardiness, up to scratch.  
  
"Bloody Greengrass has potential," he muttered darkly, "If only she weren't mooning over a bloke who's already left the school, she'd do much better." It was a widely acknowledged fact that Daphne Greengrass, one of Pansy's roommates, had been infatuated with former Seeker Terence Higgs for several years now. Unfortunately for her, Higgs either never noticed, or didn't give a damn, and the bloke wasn't in school any more. Greengrass never went to practice without performing several self-renewing hair-detangling charms and dousing herself in rosewater first, on the off chance that Higgs might randomly show up to watch.  
  
Emma smirked, "At least she knows how to look ladylike under pressure. It's too bad that she takes so long doing it. Besides..." she gave him a probing look, "The results ARE rather worth it. Don't YOU find her attractive?"  
  
What sort of question was THAT? "I don't go for brunettes," he answered curtly. Was Dobbs trying to... get information for the darling cause of her parents? "And a Malfoy has higher standards than whorish gold-diggers." Not that Ginny Weasley was the precise girl that he'd bring back to home to Lucius Malfoy and expect pats on the back for his marvelous choice.   
  
Right... Emma nodded slowly. Malfoys probably didn't think much of halfblood Irish Gryffindors, either. Not that Seamus thought of her as anything but an unusual friend... perhaps a kid sister. She turned an internal sigh into a shrug. "Could be worse," she mused in a bland, schooled tone of voice, "At least Greengrass isn't a Mudblood. Now, if you'd been shagging GRANGER..."  
  
"You have a very sick, twisted mind," Draco told her bluntly, "And I just said that I don't go for brunettes."  
  
Emma shrugged again. "I'm just saying..."  
  
"Let's not speculate such things as Slytherins with mudbloods," Draco cut her off. Or any speculations of himself with Gryffindors, for that matter...  
  
"... Right," Emma's voice was soft and cool, and she studied her clipped nails closely, "You'd probably be glad to know that the Dark Lord's army is nearly finished preparing. It'll not be longer than a month before the battle for purity breaks out here."  
  
Draco's face was stony and emotionless, but he couldn't bring himself to say anything more on the matter. Both Slytherin Prefects gave the Charms corridor a perfunctory check, before excusing themselves, Emma for her dormitory, Draco for Professor Snape's office. 


	7. The Darkness After The Dawn

A/N: I'm baaaaaack! There is angst in this chapter, and character death. Sad, I know, but that's what happens when there is war. And there's a fanservicey D/G scene at the beginning, so it's all good :)  
  
Disclaimer: It'll never change, I'm not that brave, I'll never own the Potterverse... (even if I DO rip off Jack Off Jill lyrics in stupid disclaimers...)  
  
~*~  
  
"You've been very preoccupied lately."  
  
It was in the dead of night, and she was lying next to him. The candle on the bedside table was burning very low, flickering over her concerned face and his sullen one.   
  
"I've a lot on my mind," he replied, more curtly than usual and avoiding her eyes. She was pureblood, that much was true, but...  
  
"And it's nothing to do with the NEWTs," she observed shrewdly, glancing up into his face. "And you haven't told me about it."  
  
"It's..."  
  
"Tell me." Her voice was soft, somewhat calm, but very, very worried. "I love you, you know... you can tell me anything."  
  
"No I can't," he said flatly, "There are some things that it would be dangerous for you to know."  
  
She fell silent and sighed. True, perhaps... but she leaned up and brushed her lips against his jaw. "But... at least give me some reassurance that you're going to be all right," she whispered against his bare skin, gentle fingertips touching the Dark Mark on his arm. "Whatever it is that you're worried about?"  
  
"I... I can't," he declared choppily, even as his arms tightened around her body. He wanted to live... and he wanted to be able to hold her like this, years from now. But...  
  
"Draco," her voice held an audible note of alarm, "Draco... please tell me what's wrong." Burying her face in his neck and clinging to his waist, she steeled herself. "What's the matter?"  
  
Ye Gods... but right now, when he could feel the quiver in her breath against his skin, he really DIDN'T want to tell her that things would be darker soon.  
  
"Please," she whispered beseechingly, great dark eyes looking up and meeting troubled gray ones. He gave a sigh, and suddenly buried his own face in her red hair.  
  
"Things are going to be bad. There will be a battle. Here. Soon. Any time. There... people will suffer and... people might die." He didn't say that HE might die, or that SHE might die. "You..."  
  
She sucked in a sharp breath, feeling as though her insides were slowly filling with ice. A... battle...  
  
It had to come down to this, apparently...  
  
"Draco..." she choked out against his neck, clinging to him and fervently wishing that time could be stopped, the battle indefinitely postponed and the two of them able to stay like this... safe and limbs intertwined and hearts beating together, skin against skin and the comfort of his arms around her waist, of being loved and safe and protected...  
  
He heard a slight sniffle and a shaky breath, as if she was trying hard not to cry, to remain strong for his... THEIR sakes. Forcing a tone much lighter than he felt, he twined a strand of red hair around one finger and remarked, "Weaslette, YOU are supposed to be the brave and exuberant Gryffindor of the two..."  
  
She gave a hollow laugh, burying her face further against his neck, and her breath tickled as she mumbled something about snarky Slytherins making generalizations of the superior house. But her arms were tighter as they clung to him, because of what she now knew, and what she realized it could mean.  
  
He stroked her hair from crown to tips with an uncharacteristic gentleness as he held her close, swallowing his secret worries and fears. He knew the possibility that he wouldn't be able to hold her like this, in the future, due to the myriad things that could go wrong in battle... that always went wrong...  
  
And as she finally fell asleep, her lips still pressed against his skin, he reflected wryly that he'd lost the ability to lie around her somehow, because he WASN'T able to reassure her and tell her that it would all be all right.  
  
~*~  
  
"GIN."  
  
That accusatory bellow came from a scowling redhead as she walked into the Common Room at dawn. She flinched and swore to herself.  
  
Ron stalked over towards her and glared down into her face. "What have you been DOING, sister dearest? Where have you BEEN?!"  
  
"Not your business," she replied wearily, trying to walk past him and move to the dormitories. "I was out."  
  
"THAT much is apparent, you madwoman," he growled, "Out WHERE? And WERE YOU WITH SOMEONE?!"  
  
Nix the dormitories, retreat was called for. Ginny backed away, moving towards the portrait hole once more. Ron followed, advancing on her with a suspicious look in his eyes. "Gin," he snarled, "You're not SUPPOSED to be out all night! What would mum say if she knew?!"  
  
"The same thing she'd say to you if she knew about you, Hermione and certain activities which shall go unnamed in the Restricted section," Gin scrabbled for the feel of wood against her fingers even as she backed away from Ron with a glare on her face.  
  
Ron, to his credit, flushed a shade of magenta. "You... so you WERE shagging someone?!"  
  
"Not. Your. Business." Giving a push to the portrait behind her, she felt it give way, and fled the Common Room, Ron yelling after her.   
  
"YOU AREN'T ALLOWED TO DO THAT!"  
  
Ginny was almost to the Great Hall when she heard what sounded like a rumble followed by a resounding BOOM in the distance. Stopping dead in her tracks, she peered out the window... and her face turned chalk-white.  
  
A mass of black robes and stark-white masks was encroaching in, from the direction of the forbidden forest.  
  
She gave a scream even as a warning siren sounded in the hallway.  
  
~*~  
  
As the screams broke out, the horrid stench of blood filling the air and the cold of fear crept up his spine, Dean Thomas, his dark face grim, pushed through the throng. He was in danger, that he knew. But before fleeing, he had to make sure that...  
  
That certain people were safe. Seamus and Padma and his friends... the tall 7th year boy pounded down the hall, flinching when he heard the screams...  
  
He heard footsteps and cold laughter behind him, but didn't turn around to check who it was. There wasn't time, and all he could do was to perform a smoke charm behind his back. It would buy him a few moments' time...  
  
"Padma... PADMA!!" he called out over the din, as he scanned the nearby cluster of Ravenclaws for a glossy raven head and an olive-skinned, exotically beautiful face. He found it a moment later, and he ran towards the pair of brilliant, velvet-soft dark eyes.  
  
Padma turned sharply when, appearing through a clearing gray mist, came her boyfriend, his eyes filled with love and worry and the promise of protection and peace and a calm from the storm... Gryffindor, bravery... she broke away from her housemates and ran towards him. He was so tall and strong...  
  
And as the smoke dissipated and he reached her, arms enclosing around her slender form, she smiled through her terror and melted into his embrace.   
  
Padma wasn't a tall girl; her head barely came up to his chin and now, with her face buried in his neck, she didn't see it coming.  
  
Darius Avery's voice was low, a menacing hiss as he pronounced the lethal incantation, his wand pointed right at the oblivious back of the boy who'd tried to evade him with that silly little smokescreen.  
  
And Padma, her eyes closed and trying to draw strength and comfort from the quiet, artistic young man whom she'd brought into her heart, merely felt what seemed to be a breeze, a slight rush. His arms remained around her, tight, and it was only gradually that she came to the horrific realization that she was actually holding him UP.  
  
She squirmed and tried to move him. "Dean? DEAN?!"  
  
But his arms were still around her, still warm, and since his face was buried in her satiny hair, she couldn't see that his eyes were unseeing.  
  
Off to the side, even as Avery went off after bigger prey than pathetic Mudblood students, a lone Slytherin watched, his face pale. HE knew what Padma hadn't quite comprehended yet, and Gareth Bole silently drew his wand, his face more solemn than it had ever been since he'd followed the direction that he'd been born to follow. He watched as Padma slowly stiffened, her hands, linked behind her dead boyfriend's back, starting to shake, the dark eyes wide as they finally appeared over his slumped shoulder...  
  
But before any tears could fall from them, the burly Slytherin, with a slight sigh, cast his own spell, quietly, unobserved, torn between principles and feelings and an odd fatalistic mercy.  
  
And it was then that both Padma and Dean fell to the ground, slowly crumpled like exhausted lovers, both unaware of the world around them as it fell into disorder. They were no longer part of the pandemonium...  
  
Just a boy and a girl in love, limbs intertwined and arms around each other. His face was buried in her flowing hair and her head leaned against his shoulder. In almost repose, an enchanted eternal slumber. 


	8. Tempestuous

A/N: Yes, I do realize that this chapter focuses on another couple NOT D/G. I have to show some reactions of other characters to various events, so bear with me. Besides, Emma/Seamus is fun. Trust me. Leave me a review anyway? This chapter is dedicated to the wonderful, magnificent and talented Kimmie, the creator of Emma/Seamus and one of the most insanely cool people EVER. *loves*  
  
Disclaimer: They would kill me in my sleep if I owned them. Just look at how much sorrow I put them through!  
  
~*~  
  
After the storm... came more storms, of a different nature.  
  
Out of the rubble that had been most of the school came a heavily decimated faculty, classrooms changed into temporary extensions of the hospital wing, and...  
  
The ones who weren't so lucky, reduced to names on a list.  
  
And there was no peace, even if many Death Eaters had been captured and the Dark army forced to retreat.  
  
Seamus Finnigan had made it out alive, but there was no relief... because one name stood out on the list, black letters twisting like so many venomous snakes that buried their fangs into his heart...  
  
And he fell to his knees and gave a scream.  
  
He was 18, a man, and men weren't supposed to cry. But when Emma Dobbs part-led, part-dragged him down the corridors to the empty cell, he was half-blinded by tears.   
  
When he looked up, she had pushed him into a sitting position on the floor, which was bare, only covered with a shaggy rug that was dark and dusty. "Emma," his voice was strangled, "Where are we?"  
  
"Somewhere no one will ever come to," she said in a small voice, "Because you need to let it out, and I didn't think you wanted to do it in the Great Hall."  
  
He blindly reached out, his hands heavy on her slender shoulders. The fingers would leave bruises, but he didn't notice, and she didn't care. His eyes, when they met hers, were filled with a myriad things, hatred and pain and anguish and anger... and most of all, a terrible loneliness and heartbreak, which came from losing someone of incalculable importance in one's life.  
  
But the deep green pools, swollen with liquid and flooding, grew confused as they met pained sapphire eyes. "Why?" he rasped out, "Why are you here?"  
  
"Because you mean a lot to me," she ventured. Confessions were not for this time, "And you need me here."  
  
It seemed so SIMPLE when she said it, but he wasn't that stupid.  
  
"You're the daughter of DEATH EATERS," he spat, his eyes blazing. "Your parents were THERE!" The words were accusatory, angry, as if she could control what sort of family she'd been born into.  
  
"Yes," she acknowledged solemnly. "I'm the daughter of Death Eaters... but that's it." With an almost maddening gentleness, she reached out and brushed his tangled, sweaty bangs from his eyes, before holding him close but not too close, so he could cry on her shoulder, the girl consoling the man.  
  
And cry he did, because he needed to. Howling in anguish, the tears, hot and heavy, soaked through the thin material of her uniform blouse, his eyes closed to the colours of her tie and the colours of his. As he mourned for his lost friend, she sighed, her face almost as full of agony as his, and rubbed his back. He needed a friend, and because she loved him even though that was wrong, she would be that friend today.   
  
In between the strangled sobs and the burning sensation that came of too much emotion in too little time, death that came too fast, there came the muffled words that he was all alone, that his friend of seven years was GONE, just like that, wiped out like a candle snuffed. And when he lifted his head, his eyes were wide, almost like a broken-hearted child's, and she felt her own eyes overflow, her own heart break in her breast.  
  
"You're not alone, Seamus," she whispered hoarsely, "Don't EVER think that you're alone. I'm still here for you, and I'll always be. I'll be your friend, or your confidante... I'll hold you while you cry, laugh with you, listen to you rant and rave... die for you, kill for you, betray my parents for you... and I swear by everything I know and everything that I am... that you'll never be alone."  
  
Her "you're not alone"s, repeated so many times that he lost count, as her ocean blue eyes filled with tears and gazed with a distressed sincerity into his own, filled too with a myriad emotions and conflicts as stormy as his own, broke some sort of will, some sort of resolve within him, and the gentle, lighthearted friend that he'd been seemed to take a shift in a sharply different direction. Before her next 'you're not alone' was out her mouth, he'd shoved her down roughly on the rug, hot tears falling onto her pale cheeks as his lips caught hers, fiery and desperate and bitter and intoxicating, and she reached out her hands with an aching tenderness to caress his hair.  
  
It wasn't the sort of lovemaking that either of them had expected. Their first time together (if they were even expecting to have such a time together) under other circumstances, would not have happened on the floor of some lonely room in the dungeons, and there would have been smiles and not tears. He was rough and clumsy, grief bringing out edges that most didn't associate with the charming Irish lad, but even as he clung to her, skin against skin, his tears fell on the cream-coloured, silken loveliness that was her body, his hands clenched around her waist almost painfully as he collapsed on top of her, her limbs entwined with his. She gazed up at him from under lowered eyelashes, as he, spent and drained, took deep, steadying breaths, the tearing sensation that had filled his chest at Dean's death becoming a dull ache. For several minutes, neither of them moved or spoke at all, unsure what to say.  
  
She was the first to move. Gently lifting her hand from where it had been braced against his chest, she reached up to stroke his cheek.  
  
His eyes widened, and then, pain filled his eyes again, but a different pain. Moving away from her and shivering involuntarily at the abrupt chill, he turned his face away, muttering a curse and something too soft for her to make out.  
  
"What did you say?" she asked, her voice quiet as she flexed her legs, pulling herself into a sitting position.  
  
"I... used you," he muttered dully, still not looking at her. "I... practically RAPED you..."  
  
But her tiny hand had reached out, fingertips against his lips to quiet him, and then to cup his chin so that they were facing each other. Her face was calm, and her words were even when she spoke.  
  
"Seamus... Slytherins don't allow Gryffindors to USE them."  
  
And for a few moments, he sat still, his heart too full of things unexplainable to speak. And then, finally, he reached for her, and this time when their lips met, he was gentle, tender... loving. And she sighed slightly into his mouth, still tasting the tears even as she ran cool, soothing fingers down his shoulders. When they broke apart, she tried... and managed... to give him a little smile.  
  
"Don't be sorry," she whispered, "And now you should sleep."  
  
When they were dressed and the room cleaned up, they silently walked down the corridor to her quarters, private room for a Prefect. And he didn't let go of her hand until she'd pushed him down on her bed and tucked the covers over his weary body. And he, lethargic and now calm, let her close his eyes with her gentle fingers, giving in to the sleep of exhaustion.  
  
She silently left his side, walking slowly across the room to the fireplace, and whispered "Incendio."  
  
And as the firelight illuminated his features, finally smooth and tranquil in repose, she dropped the dark arts and anti-Muggleborn propaganda that her parents had sent her, year after year, one item at a time, into the twisting scarlet flames. 


	9. Rage and Recklessness

A/N: Angst galore. No, I'm really NOT a complete angst whore, despite what it might seem. I promise... this SHALL have a reasonably happy ending, all things considered. But in this chapter, there is angstfluff. But there's more D/G, and that should please you. Yes? Yes.  
  
Disclaimer: By the morning's light, I won't have gotten anywhere, in my scheme to steal the Potterverse. And perhaps I shouldn't rip off any more nice angstful songs, either.  
  
~*~  
  
Parvati Patil, from appearances, had handled everything WELL. At least, when she found out of her sister's death, she had been quiet.  
  
When she saw Padma, the dead face a peaceful reflection of her own, she had not made any sound, even if she had stumbled slightly. Harry Potter, his face pale and wan, had reached out to try to catch his housemate, but Parvati had brushed his hands away.  
  
The Indian girl walked about as if in a daze, though. There were still no classes, and when she had tottered into the empty Charms classroom when, had things been normal, she would have supposed to be in Potions, no one said anything. But then again, both Charms and Potions were now vacant positions. Padma had not been the only loss.  
  
The Head Girl had taken Parvati's arm and guided her back to the Common Room, sitting her down in one of the more comfortable chairs, and silently handed her a cup of tea.  
  
Parvati had noticed a leatherbound portfolio on a nearby table, and as if in a dream, reached out nerveless fingers to take it into her lap.   
  
It had been Dean's sketches, and she opened the portfolio, her face unseeing and blank as she stared at depictions of the Common Room, herself, her housemates, Quidditch matches...  
  
And then, she abruptly stopped at the last page, and the reaction was slow, like a gradually-building storm that finally came after being covered and hidden for eons. Gradually, she started to shake, from her hands, eventually her whole body, and the limp fingers suddenly clenched around the drawing, still unfinished, yanking it out of the portfolio. As the girl's hair quivered with deep, shaky breaths, she sprang up from her seat, her eyes filled with the deepest and most incredibly profound of heartbreak, and her elbow knocked over the glass of tea she'd set on the table, tear-hot water and dead leaves splashing all over the floor, wetting her shoes and soaking into the blood-red carpet.  
  
And, picture still in hand, a manic gleam in her liquid eyes, she ran for the door.  
  
An alarmed Harry Potter and a fearful Lavender Brown stood up from THEIR seats and ran out at Parvati's heels.  
  
~*~  
  
The door to the Divination tower never slammed before, open OR shut. But Parvati's savage shove almost blew the trapdoor from its rusty hinges, and there were splinters in her brown knuckles when she leapt into the classroom and grabbed a startled Professor Trelawney by one of her scarves, uncaring or unaware of the woman's wheezing.  
  
"Miss Patil!" Trelawney finally recovered herself after a few moments, "What on earth is the matter, dear?"  
  
"DON'T CALL ME 'DEAR'!" Parvati shrieked, giving her publically acknowledged favourite teacher a wild shake, "I TRUSTED YOU! I TRUSTED YOU!"  
  
"Parvati..." Lavender started, but the Indian girl didn't hear her friend.  
  
"I TRUSTED YOU!!" Parvati punctuated her broken, choked words with fierce shakes and bitter tears, "I... YOU... YOU PREDICTED EVERYONE'S DEATH!! EVERYONE!! WHY COULDN'T YOU TELL ME THAT MY SISTER WOULD BE DEAD?!" She waved the unfinished drawing of the dreamy-eyed Padma in Trelawney's pale, fearful face, the sheet crackling like bones about to snap, and gave a half-scream, half-sob. "WHY DIDN'T YOU TELL ME!? I TRUSTED YOU! OH GODS, I TRUSTED YOU!!"  
  
As Parvati broke down, crumpling into tears, her painful grip on the professor's shoulders loosened, and Harry and Lavender, each taking an arm, pulled her off Trelawney, who put a hand to her breast, speechless. Muttering a cool, generic apology, Harry led the girl out of the Divination tower even as Lavender picked up the picture, now slightly crumpled at the edges.   
  
~*~  
  
"What are they going to do about the teachers?"  
  
She lay on his bed, her skin illuminated by the light from the fire, her big brown eyes fixed, troubled, upon his impassive face. He gave a morose sort of shrug.  
  
"Bring in new people, as soon as they can," he muttered, "Not sure who, yet... but some are to arrive in a week or so."  
  
She nodded slowly and gave a slight sigh. "Your father was there," she told him, "He... he was the one who killed Professor Snape. What are you doing without a Head of House?"  
  
"Main issues go to Dumbledore, minor ones to the Prefects," came the laconic answer. He didn't want to think about Professor Snape OR his father... when it came to things... not with her here. And there wasn't just THAT. Battles meant that things were more serious. Battles meant... complications. "Don't worry about the other Slytherins, Gryfflet," he said, forcing a light tone, "I might get jealous."  
  
She almost laughed, and reached out to swat his bare shoulder. "We're... endangering everyone with this, aren--"  
  
He reached out, moving her over him and into his lap, none-too-gently cupping the back of her head and pulling her face down to his. When they broke apart, her lips were swollen, and he gazed up at her with half-lidded eyes. "I can't pretend that this isn't a risk... but I'm not giving you up."  
  
So blunt... she flushed slightly, fingers grazing the slight scar on his shoulder where he'd been hit with a Collacero curse. "I shouldn't feel this... carefree... this... this 'devil-may-care'... when..."  
  
"Stop it," he ordered, scowling darkly at her, "Stop it."  
  
"Why should I?" she demanded, frowning as well, "Shouldn't I be SAD that so many people have DIED? SHouldn't I be scared that so many MORE could die? Like my brothers, or... like you?"  
  
"See, this is where we're different," he told her bluntly, "You have the luxury of worrying about these things."  
  
"What do you mean?!"  
  
"We think about survival all the time around here," he gestured the dungeon walls around him, "It's so NORMAL that..."  
  
"The Gryffindors are angry, you know," she whispered, her voice muffled against his shoulder, "They... Parvati broke down today. She couldn't stop crying..."  
  
"If they didn't have a price on my head I'd be shocked," he sighed, "Is that what you're so upset about? Them hating me? That's not new, Ginny."  
  
"Ron might kill you if he knew..."  
  
"This isn't new, either," he cut her off. "And in these times, almost anyone can kill anyone else. At least Weasel would be doing it not arbitrarily."  
  
She gave him an exasperated look at the derogatory name, and he shook his head. "But... why the deuce are we talking about your brother when I have you naked in my bed draped over me like a quilt?" Before she could answer this riddle, he was kissing her again, not pulling away from her when they were out of breath this time, and when his lips moved to her throat and his fingers trailed delicately down her spine, she stopped thinking so much, except for the odd thought that, perhaps, she was the influence behind this seeming recklessness of his... this "I won't give up despite the risks".  
  
She wasn't sure if she should exult, but then, his lips grazed that spot by her earlobe, and her thoughts scattered like dust in a winter wind. She shed no tears that night.  
  
And perhaps it was good that... almost no one knew, even now. 


	10. New Survival

A/N: In which Ginny makes a pact of sorts with another Slytherin, and several new teachers arrive.   
  
Disclaimer: [insert random witticism about not owning HP characters here when caffeinated].  
  
~*~  
  
When Ginny left Draco's dormitory that night, she had made sure to pin her Prefect badge onto robes straightened with Neatening Charms. She had painstakingly charmed her hair smooth, and except for the dewy lips and the glimmer in her eyes, she looked... relatively normal. To the casual eye. She was just on Prefect rounds, of course... if anyone asked.  
  
The list of the dead extended beyond Dean and Padma, and in the cold, dark hallways, Ginny shivered slightly. She could forget, for a time, with Draco. But only for a time, and it was still in the back of their minds. It was all wrong for them to be together like that...  
  
It was chilling that her own Head of House was the only Head still alive, out of the ones she'd grown up knowing.  
  
But even the studious Hermione couldn't quite focus on studies these days. Every day, several more empty seats not from the deaths created gaping holes in the silent long tables of the Great Hall. Students were being taken home by outraged and concerned parents. Others...  
  
Draco had told her who the others were. Students like Millicent Bulstrode and Theodore Nott and Delano Moon... they had been out in the open. Bulstrode had been the one to hit Professor Sprout, who'd always been kind to her, with a Shaking hex that had sent the woman straight out the window of the tower she'd been keeping the young students in, in an effort to avoid the Death Eaters. Three first-years had been killed before a scrappy little Slytherin named Persephone Vafer had thrown a brick at Millicent's head, knocking her down and dazed. Then the rest of the tearful first-years had swarmed the large Slytherin girl, and had snatched her wand away.   
  
Though many Death Eaters, student and non-student alike, had been apprehended, only too many more were still running loose. Voldemort had lost the terribly-gained ability to touch Harry again, but he was still alive. It was unfair...  
  
Ginny was so caught up in her thoughts that she almost passed by a classroom that should be empty, completely unnoticing, but a few more muffled sounds from it caught her attention, and she silently pushed open the door.  
  
And stared.  
  
As Pansy Parkinson and Neville Longbottom, both wearing startled expressions, immediately straightened, the girl hastily buttoning up her blouse. For a few moments, no one spoke, the couple stunned at being discovered, and Ginny shocked at seeing just who they were.  
  
And then, it was Pansy who spoke first. Despite the fact that her usually impeccable coiffure was mussed, and her tie dangling loosely over a blouse buttoned wrong... Despite the fact that her skirt had been rolled up to reveal lace garters on silk stockings... she still managed a perfect little sneer, and stood up straight, shoulders back, towering over Ginny on her high heeled shoes. "Here to take points from Slytherin, Weasley?"  
  
Neville gave her a pleading look, and Ginny blinked slightly, before asking in a faint voice, "What... is going on?"  
  
"What is going on," Pansy drawled, "Is ME..." she pointed at herself, "About to relieve Neville over there of a case of the tight trousers. Or, I would have, until YOU came along, and I DO have enough decorum not to continue doing so in your presence, as he might not like that."  
  
"I... see," Ginny managed, eyeing the two. Neville... and PANSY!? But Pansy had one hand, almost protectively, on Neville's arm. The 7th year girl also had a perfectly plucked eyebrow raised in a challenging sort of look, as if daring Ginny to say something derogatory.  
  
"And before you think of squealing, let's get some things out in the open," Pansy stood somewhat in front of Neville, giving him the chance to put his clothing in order with some privacy. "It would hurt YOU much more if I tell... than it would hurt ME if you did."  
  
There was a defiant sort of urgency in Pansy's voice, and Ginny knew exactly what she was talking of. But the redheaded girl turned towards her housemate instead. "Neville?"  
  
"It was my choice," Neville said quietly, his face solemn, "I'm..."  
  
"Are you happy, then?"  
  
"Is anyone happy now, with what's... gone on?" Neville asked rhetorically, "I almost wish SNAPE was back... just so..."  
  
"Well, Snape... and the others... aren't going to come back," Pansy said harshly, "Now that it's been made QUITE apparent that anyone can die at any time, shall we move onto the part where we make the uneasy truce and keep each other's secrets in a mutually beneficial pact of survival and then TRY to be happy because that's exactly what the Dark Lord doesn't want?"  
  
It was a curious echo of what Draco had tried to tell her earlier, when she was lying in his bed. Ginny gave the other girl a long look, and something... a curious sort of understanding, passed between their eyes. Slowly, the redhead nodded and held out a hand for the Slytherin to shake.  
  
Pansy's lips quirked into an almost-smile. "I probably don't want to know where that hand's been, and what it has been doing, but..." She shook it briefly, "Now that you've been successfully traumatized, Weasley, back to your Common Room."  
  
Ginny went, the odd encounter somehow making her feel a little better about everything.  
  
~*~  
  
One at a time, the classes started to resume. On Monday morning, a somewhat tired Ginny looked up at the staff table... to see a very familiar face, sitting next to Professor McGonagall. Angelina Johnson, who'd usually worn a smile in Ginny's recollection, was looking rather solemn as she discussed something or another with her former Head of House, a thick sheaf of parchments in her hand. When Ginny caught her eye, the former Gryffindor Chaser gave the girl a wan smile, and Ginny smiled back, wondering what Angelina was doing here...   
  
And then Dumbledore, his face still pale and thin with the evidence of the recent battle, stood up and gave a short speech... and then they had a Charms instructor again.  
  
Solan Montague arrived two days later, for Potions. And with that post, the duty of running Slytherin House also fell upon the young man's shoulders. Most of the Slytherins welcomed this former captain back with warily open arms. It was the most divided and secretive house after all, and Montague seemed content to keep his own counsel as far as the war and which side he supported was concerned. He spoke to Draco and Ginny, the Potions tutors, briefly one evening, giving them civil if rather quiet thanks for their endeavours to keep the students on task after the battle. And when Ginny remarked to Draco, much later and in private, that he seemed different from the haughty-seeming Slytherin Chaser of his school days, Draco shrugged.  
  
"I don't think that Montague has changed any more than any of the rest of us... but that doesn't say anything."  
  
Or perhaps Montague HAD changed. Ginny watched the young man talk with Angelina at the high table, as the two sat next to each other for breakfast a few days later. He listened to whatever it was that Angelina was saying... and he was even smiling.   
  
No different from herself and Draco, though... and she didn't even think that their new Charms and Potions instructors had gone nearly that far. That morning, there were two more new faces at the staff table, both of them Ravenclaws. Cho Chang, who had only left last year, was now the youngest staff member, and there was a flying instructor again. The Ravenclaws gave their former Seeker a smile, and Cho promised, in a brave sort of voice, to be a responsible and caring Head of House. And by her side, a cast on one of his arms half-hidden by his sleeve, was Roger Davies. A young Auror of twenty-one, with a too-old look in his dark blue eyes.  
  
Roger Davies would only be teaching Defense Against the Dark Arts and replacing the deceased Professor Lloyd who'd taught them til then... until his wounds had healed, and then he would have to go back to active duty. Dumbledore explained this to everyone else, who all nodded and gave Professor Davies small, strained smiles.  
  
And Ginny noticed that Cho's smile was the most strained of all. 


	11. Lessons and Love

A/N: This chapter (dedicated to the w00bie Kimmie of the E/S creational fame) has, among other things, Emma/Seamus fluff. Thanks to the [few] who have been feeding my evil inner review whore, she really appreciates it!   
  
Disclaimer: ...Can we say 'no shit, Sherlock!'?  
  
~*~  
  
Harry walked out of Double Potions with the Slytherins with a stony expression on his face. Lessons were somewhat different, now. More of a focus on technique and practicality than on theory, at least relative to the past. Antidotes... they weren't hard to brew, and they had learnt all about it in earlier years. But Montague had, with a blank expression, told them to brew several of the most common ones. As they were cleaning up, Montague had been combining the successfully brewed ones of the same types... into holding bottles, several racks of labelled single-dosage vials in front of him.   
  
Antidotes and Healing Potions... to be used by the masses that were injured each day in the battles... Harry walked off towards the direction of Defense Against the Dark Arts even as the Slytherins separated from them towards the direction of History of Magic.   
  
Ron glared at the back of Draco Malfoy as the Head Boy, falling in step next to Pansy Parkinson, silently made his way down the hall in the opposite direction. "Slimy Slytherins... I'd rather take candy from Fred and George than a so-called 'Healing Potion' from one of THEM..."  
  
Harry sighed. Thus far, all the student Death Eaters who had been apprehended from the battle... eight out of the ten had been Slytherins. It was an admittedly bad track record, but then again...  
  
It had been Slytherin first-year Persephone Vafer who had stopped Millicent Bulstrode with a brick to the head. It had been Slytherin Prefect Emma Dobbs who had hit Theodore Nott with a Stunning Spell, before the latter could hex Harry's own roommate Seamus from behind. Slytherins... it didn't seem quite so simple nowadays...  
  
And then, they had arrived in Defense Against the Dark Arts, and Harry put those thoughts behind him.   
  
~*~  
  
Roger Davies was standing in front of the classroom, face turned towards the window, when the Gryffindors filed inside. The young Auror's face was solemn as he shut the door behind the last student.  
  
"I expect that everyone has been practicing the Countercurses to those mind-control spells?" he asked the class in a quiet voice. Nods of assent and affirmative murmurs greeted him, and Roger gave what was almost a smile. He didn't smile often.   
  
A few more spells demonstrated, and Roger paired the class up in groups to practice casting the spell. With the odd number of students present, Harry ended up paired with Roger himself, who cast the spells for the student to counter as they stood, facing each other, a short distance from where Neville and Hermione were practicing.  
  
"Good work," Roger told Harry after the student had countered several spells in quick succession. "A bit cleaner on the upstroke of the last countercurse, but otherwise, very good." He lifted a hand and rubbed his left arm, which was still bandaged around the forearm.   
  
Harry's curiosity got the better of him, and he gave his interim Defense professor an odd look. "Pardon me for asking, sir... but what happened with that?"  
  
"This?" Roger pointed at his arm. When the student nodded, the former Ravenclaw captain gave a rueful sort of grin.  
  
"I was in a battle... my partner and I were facing off a pack of Death Eaters... we were rather outnumbered, and as I was dueling with one of the Death Eaters, another hexed me from behind. Well... with a Conburo Dermae aimed at my head."  
  
Harry's eyes widened at this account, spoken very simply, and stared at the face of this former fellow student. Roger... Professor Davies sighed, a frown marring his face.  
  
"It hit your arm though," Harry pointed out.  
  
Roger nodded silently, a pensive look in his too-old eyes. "My partner gave me a shove. She took the brunt of it..." He took a deep breath, then composed himself, "She's in St. Mungo's. They're trying to fix the burns on her face... singed through a few nerves." He looked down at the wand in his hand, "I'm just lucky to be alive. That curse is deadly at close range."  
  
"Who is she?" Harry asked quietly.  
  
"Oh... she was my trainer, actually. You probably don't know her; she was in 7th year by the time you entered. Her name is Madison Higgs, formerly of Slytherin House. Her younger brother Terence was Slytherin's Seeker before Draco Malfoy."  
  
At Harry's stunned look, Roger gave another hollow smile. "Yes, Potter... there ARE Slytherins out there who help others."  
  
Actually, Seamus, who was standing about ten feet away, shooting spells back and forth with Parvati, could have told him that. Not that anyone knew.  
  
~*~  
  
Seamus guessed that it was nearly three o'clock in the morning now, although it was always hard to tell, here.  
  
There were no windows in the dungeons, and the only light in the room came from the dying fire in the grate.  
  
Seamus shifted slightly in the bed, flexing his bare limbs. It wasn't the first time that he'd slept here.  
  
It wasn't the first time that he'd had sex with her here, either.  
  
In the dim glow of the nearly-gone fire, her skin shimmered smooth, a dark honey gold. Dusky, luscious eyelashes rested upon pale cheeks, and her chest rose slightly with each breath she took.  
  
Oh, she was stunning.  
  
Though... not the type of beauty that brought men to their knees, singing songs of praise and odes of joy. She was a small little thing, the top of her head barely coming to his lips when she stood erect. The face was attractive, but not flawless, and though her skin was soft and smooth and her figure pleasing, she wasn't a perfect beauty.   
  
But she had gorgeous blue eyes deep as oceans and bright as stars, and when she looked at him, they would always be warm and soft. He'd never seen anyone with such beautiful eyes, not even the veela at the Quidditch World Cup that he'd attended years ago.  
  
And her delicate, almost fairylike features were more mobile and expressive than most would associate with her house.  
  
The body that she'd given to him shivered slightly with the chill of the room, and he snapped out of his reverie. The dungeons WERE a bit more cool than most were accustomed to, even those like her.  
  
Pulling the covers higher over her form, he moved a bit closer until he was holding her in his arms, her body nestled against his own, spooned together.  
  
Her head was tucked underneath his chin, and in his line of vision, he saw their clothing, haphazardly strewn over the carpeted floor. Robes and shoes and trousers and skirts and underthings, a mess. They never WERE quite polished when they did this. It was always need and passion and intoxicatingly deep, breath-stealing kisses, hands that held and touched and unwrapped.   
  
Dully, the silk of both their ties, lying almost side by side, shimmered in the glow from the coals. Red and green and gold and silver. A somewhat hazy splotch of colour on the dark background of black robes and forest green plush carpet.  
  
Almost melding together.  
  
Complementing and... bringing out the vividness in each other.  
  
And Seamus, his heart almost too full of a sudden torrent of overwhelming, choking emotions, moved until Emma was firmly tucked in his arms, his hands resting on her waist and his face buried in her hair. And his eyes glittered with an odd light as he, with infinite tenderness, kissed the top of her head before finally closing his eyes as she stopped shivering.  
  
~*~  
  
Emma awoke, warm and lethargic, at dawn. She tried to stir, but the strength of the warm arms wrapped around her prevented her from moving too far. Turning slowly so that she was facing him, she gazed at him curiously.   
  
He opened his eyes when he felt her moving, and unconsciously, tightened his arms before he realized that she wasn't going anywhere. And when his eyes met hers, she was smirking slightly.  
  
"Isn't your arm dead from me lying on it all night?" she asked softly, lightly.  
  
He smiled, and there was something unusually tender in it. But before she had time to think about it, he kissed her cheek lightly, "You were cold."  
  
She smiled lazily, before closing her eyes again. "Oh."  
  
It was still early, and she went back to sleep. And he watched her, making out her peaceful features in the darkness of the room.  
  
And he reflected that she was beautiful when she smiled for him. 


	12. Farewells

A/N: This fic is coming out fairly fast... I suppose that's a good thing. And FINALLY, we're getting towards the end of the school year. Yes. There will be people leaving (like Draco, Seamus, Pansy, Neville, etc...) amongst other things. Yes, everyone, this means angstfluff. And I promise more action (of the battle battle smite smite smite type) very soon, too.   
  
Disclaimer: Ehh, I don't know. The Slytherins seem a bit of a high-maintenance sort. I don't think I have enough money for their ownership and up-keep. And the Gryffindors would hate me, as would the Hufflepuffs. And as for the Ravenclaws... well, I don't think I have time for all the deep discussions on the mysteries of the universe for that, either.   
  
~*~  
  
"It's not going to be safe for us to owl."  
  
Those were the words that he had given her. Blunt, to the point, with a slight scowl and a troubled look in the stormy gray eyes.   
  
She'd gasped, but it wasn't completely beyond her expectation. But nevertheless, she stared up into his face, white teeth chewing on red lip. "I see."  
  
"My father might be gone,' Draco murmured, almost to himself, "But there are others. Malfoy Manor is still being combed down, too. I won't be living there."  
  
Ginny let out a shaky breath that she didn't know she'd been holding. "So... after tomorrow, it's going to be goodbye, then?"  
  
She was keeping calm, not showing emotional weakness. There was only a barely perceptible tremor in her voice, and a faint sheen of liquid in her eyes. Secrets of the heart. Almost Slytherin. But he knew better, and when he took her hands in his, pulling her up into a sitting position and gazing into her eyes, his own face wasn't quite calm.  
  
"Hell, no," he finally told her, eyes narrowed. "So you can get snatched up by ruddy gits like that Michael Corner? You're mine. I don't share."  
  
She was forced to give a small laugh at his almost bratty attitude, but when she looked back up at him, her eyes were still solemn. "But if we can't owl, and I won't even know where you are..."  
  
"There will be ways, angel." Truth be told, he wasn't quite sure what ways there would be, yet... but nevertheless... "Do you trust me?"  
  
He wasn't sure if that was a fair question... if he had any right to ask that of her, but with it, she gave him a smile, and twined her arms around his neck. "Always," she answered, leaning up and pressing her lips to his. A few moments later, she pulled away, her gaze still settled upon his face. "I won't say goodbye, then."  
  
~*~  
  
Emma Dobbs had been putting away her broomstick after an evening fly when a hand shot out of the darkness and closed around her wrist. And just as she was about to cry out, the other hand clapped over her mouth, and she was pulled against a tall male body. Her eyes widened for a moment, and she was just about ready to lash out, kicking and scratching, when a familiar voice whispered against her neck, "It's me."  
  
She relaxed slightly, and pulled his hand off her mouth. Turning around in his arms, she gave him a mock-glare.   
  
"Could've hexed your hair off, just so you know."  
  
He gave her a half-apologetic look, before moving his hand from her wrist to clasp her fingers. "I didn't think that I'd be able to... talk to you tomorrow before I left."  
  
She nodded with a slight sigh, "Too true. What is it that you want to talk about?"  
  
Bringing her slender hand towards his face and resting it against his cheek, he whispered, "I... well, you know that I'm going to be working for the Diagon Alley Quality Quidditch Supplies."  
  
She nodded again. "I'll try to stop by when I go to get my school things."  
  
"Emma, I..." he started, his face pensive and the green eyes under the sandy bangs glimmering oddly in the dimness of the broomshed, "I..."  
  
She, in her oddly knowing way, knew what he was trying to put into words as usual. Her eyes softening slightly, she brushed his cheek with her fingers. "I'll miss you too, Seamus."  
  
That she, secretive little Slytherin, was the first to say this, seemed to break the dam. Letting go of her hand, his arms slid around her, his neck bending as he buried his face in her hair. She could hear him breathe, just a slight tremor as he exhaled. Pressing soft lips against his throat, she held onto him, feeling him press a kiss to her temple. They always felt warmer with each other.   
  
And then, she pulled away, staring up into his face with a grave expression in her blue eyes. "I'm still living with my parents. Correspondence over the summer will be out of the question."  
  
"I know," he whispered, his face filled with an odd sort of pain that she'd never seen before... not... not even when Dean Thomas had died. "But when school starts again..."  
  
"Visit me," she finished for him, raising her hands to cup his face, "Come to the Quidditch games." Putting on a brave sort of smirk for him, she jibed, in a lighter voice than she felt, "Cheer for Slytherin."  
  
Her words brought a smile to his lips. And Seamus reflected, with surprise and with a strange sense of heartache, that only she could bring out the... the savage in him. The lover. The joy and love and hate and pain... and it shouldn't be this way, and yet now that it was, he wouldn't have it any other way...  
  
And when he leaned down to kiss her lips, a tear slid from his face to hers. Like that very first time.   
  
Kisses, with them, almost always grew out of control, from a spark to a wildfire, but this time, he pulled away, his forehead pressed against hers, his fingers still stroking through her hair. Deep breaths, and the incredible warmth that came from someone who lived within such cold, and together they stood, hearts overflowing with just too much and it was choking them and both of them were smiling bravely for each other and mixed with the pain was the peculiar confidence that, with what they had, everything would be all right.  
  
Finally, he let go of her, stepping away and bringing her hand up to his lips for one final kiss. He left the broomshed first, backing out, never taking his eyes off her.  
  
And before he shut the door between them, he whispered, softly so that only she could hear, "I'll think about you every day, my love."  
  
Emma's body froze for a moment, eyes wide in the dark and her heart leaping to her throat. For several minutes, there was no movement in the broomshed, but then, the girl emerged, her face faintly flushed, but her head was held high and proud.  
  
And she was smiling.  
  
~*~  
  
"So, you're not staying around to teach the next term." Cho Chang gave her 'fellow faculty member' a long, solemn look.   
  
Roger shook his head slowly, peering down at his former Seeker's face. Cho liked to wear her old Seeker robes during lessons, and now she stood in front of him, her long black hair in a braid, slight, graceful form clad in blue and bronze, big brown eyes filled with sadness, looking...  
  
Almost like how she had been, after Cedric Diggory had died and she'd lost one of her closest friends. Except Cho was no longer fifteen, and she could hold in the tears now. "I can't, Cho," he said hoarsely, "You... you know I have to go back."  
  
"Yes, I know," Cho murmured softly, looking down at his shoes. "Roger, I... good luck."  
  
There was a small note of worry... and something else, in her smooth, quiet voice. Looking at her, Roger felt... old, and jaded, and... then she looked up, and as she stepped up to him, he took a step forward, their robes brushing against each other, and then he was holding her in his arms and it wasn't a victory hug like he'd given her when they were in school and she just melted against him, engulfed in his warmth and strength and feeling more steady and yet oddly more desolate.  
  
For a few moments, she was content to burrow her face into the crook of his neck, shivering slightly when his lips brushed her hair. And then, she looked up, and at this distance, she was able to give him a brave sort of smile.  
  
"Do take care of yourself, Roger, please... it's dangerous and if..."  
  
Before she could say the unlucky sentence, he had cupped her delicate face in his roughened hands, close enough to feel her warm breath on his cheek. And his eyes reflected every emotion in hers... the fear, the sorrow, the countless things unsaid... and a sort of plea. And when she gave a tiny nod, he lowered his lips to hers, feeling the world fall away as she leaned closer, arms reaching up to wrap around his neck, gentle fingers winding into his hair.  
  
It was harder to leave now, in some ways... but then, it was also easier to be noble and do what he had to. It is always easier when one isn't alone.  
  
Cho smiled for him, and was courageous and supportive until the day he left for the battlefields again. The tears didn't come until after he was out of sight. 


	13. To Sacrifice, To Save

A/N: The fic muse is dragging me through this story by the hair. Evil bitch. And then the review whore is whining and wailing about how tossing out chapters so fast means less review. Also evil bitch. But all putzing aside, I'm thankful for those who are reading/reviewing this, and hope that you like it. More minor character ship stuff in this chapter, but some Draco too. Remember in the beginning where Su Li was described as being the cold and bitter Defense Professor? Yes. How all that came to be... here you'll get it.  
  
Disclaimer: I merely own a demanding bint of a fic muse and a whining terror of a review whore. You don't want to sue me. Gaining possession of either of them might be rather unpleasant.  
  
~*~  
  
It had been done with a suggestion from Dumbledore. He'd been grateful for Pansy's help, more than he could express. And now... just to get used to it all...  
  
And there was much more to worry about, greater and more dire things than getting accustomed to living shrouded in secrecy in the middle of nowhere, Muggle establishment no less.  
  
Like the others' desire to take a location for their base of operations...  
  
~*~  
  
"I hate you," the eighteen-year-old woman commented idly, looking about the office with laughing eyes that belied her statement. "You're only two years older than me. And you're already disgustingly rich, get this... this whole cushy office, and everyone listens to you. It's honestly not fair."  
  
"I know," Cassius Warrington smirked down at her. "I guess I'm just lucky like that."  
  
Su Li laughed as she gazed up into his face, her head comfortably settled in his lap, "Your ego hasn't decreased over the years since I'd met you, I see."  
  
"I wouldn't dream of disappointing you," he retorted, idly twirling a lock of her hair around his finger as she reclined on the leather couch. The young man gave her a smarmy sort of grin, "Besides, there ARE benefits to being named amongst Witch Weekly's 'Top Ten Shaggable Corporate Wizards'."  
  
Su wrinkled her delicate nose and gave him a swat in the chest, "They wouldn't know a THING about that."  
  
"Granted," he said thoughtfully, "But it's the thought that counts, wouldn't you say?"  
  
"You... are an absolutely incorrigible, utterly conceited, snarky evil bastard," she declared, shooting him a mock-glare.  
  
He laughed, running a finger down the side of her face, "Your love means a great deal to me, sweetheart. I am flattered by your kindness and generosity."  
  
She rolled her eyes, poking him in the side with a finger. "You twist everything I say into a compliment for yourself."  
  
"Because that is the underlying meaning behind everything you say," he remarked complacently as she shifted into a sitting position next to him on the couch.   
  
Eyeing him with amusement, she remarked, "Don't you have anything better to do than to sit here in this plush office, flirting with me?"  
  
"Until the meeting at two, no," he replied with a grin, "I suppose I COULD hypothetically flirt with my secretary instead, but he's seeing someone else... and moreover, I don't fly that side of the Quidditch pitch."  
  
She laughed again, giving him a teasing glance, "And the secret comes out, then... that 'shaggable corporate wizard' or not, you have a truly boring existence."  
  
"I can think of several ways which would make it far more interesting," he shot back, arching an eyebrow, "Since you're determined to bring this 'shaggable corporate wizard' issue up again. And my desk IS quite spacious."  
  
She couldn't help but flush slightly, but her voice was light as she matched his slight leer with a smirk, "Be that as it may, I am not quite sure I would want my first time to be in a situation where I might upset an ink bottle and have to explain why I have a huge patch of navy blue skin on my neck."  
  
"How about 'my outrageously handsome and wonderful and godlike boyfriend was marking me as his own while I was visiting his office and doing evil things on his desk'?"  
  
But before she could reply, there was a sudden, hard banging on his door. A harsh voice, sounding out over the thuds, bellowed out, "OPEN UP, WARRINGTON!"  
  
~*~  
  
Warrington stiffened abruptly, eyeing the door with a wary look. There was something very familiar about that voice... Su's eyes had widened, and her grip on his arm tightened as both of them stood up. Taking out her wand in silence, the young woman muttered a Revealus charm at the door.  
  
And both of them paled as the group standing on the other side became visible, as if through a one-way window. Dark robes and white masks was all that Su was able to make out, the figure in the front muttering spells furiously at the locked door even as one of his burly companions continued to bang his fist against the wood... before Warrington, muttering a snarled curse under his breath, shoved her back towards the desk, one hand removing a silver hoop from his ear and rapidly calling out an incantation even as the area by the door sizzled with magic, the Charms keeping it locked being broken relentlessly down.  
  
And just before the door slammed open, the former Slytherin Head Boy pressed the small, glittering object into the hand of the Muggleborn witch, his eyes not filled with humour now. "I want it back later, so hold on to it," he murmured quickly, before leaning forward and seizing her lips in a quick, hard kiss. And as he was pulling away, he uttered the activation spell. "Spiro Deporto!"  
  
And as the Death Eaters burst in, they caught a mere glimpse of a young Asian woman, her face filled with unspeakable fear and worry, just before she vanished into thin air.  
  
When Warrington turned around to face the masked men, he wore a slight sneer. "And to what might I owe the honour of this visit, gentlemen?"  
  
The Death Eater in the front, dark hair visible behind the mask, gave a venomous laugh. "I hope we weren't interrupting anything... with you... and that little Mudblood."  
  
Perhaps-five against one. But they weren't known for fairness.  
  
~*~  
  
By the time that Su Li had been allowed back to the research company that Warrington had managed, there were Magical Law Enforcement Squad personnel all over the scene. Warrington was nowhere to be seen.   
  
The young woman, her face pale as ash against dark and dishevelled hair, ran heedless through the crowd of witches and wizards, calling out Cassius' name.   
  
She only belatedly realized that someone was calling HER name, someone who grabbed her shoulders and turned her around. A young man with brown hair and blue eyes, of her own House and year. "Su, don't go in there..."  
  
"ARGH!" Su struggled as Kevin Entwhistle dragged her away from the scene, "I NEED TO FIND CA---"  
  
"He... er..." Kevin swallowed, looking distinctly ill. Su felt a chill rise sharply in her chest.   
  
"What is it?" she demanded, nails digging into Kevin's arms through his shirt, "What did they go? Oh Gods... what did they DO?"  
  
There was a note of rising hysteria in her voice, and Kevin winced, continuing to pull her away from the scene.  
  
"It's a curse that works slowly... kills in stages," he told her gravely, "Consopio Acedia Abscessus... ever hear of it?"  
  
Su's eyes widened, recollections of Advanced Defense Against the Dark Arts lessons filling her mind. A curse that shut down one system after another... nervous and circulatory and...  
  
Kevin hastily held her up as she stumbled backwards, her face a mask of horror and shock. "He's still alive," he told his former classmate quickly, "But... critical condition..."  
  
Su clenched her jaw to the point of pain, shutting her eyes tight for several minutes. But when she finally opened them, they were cold... filled with so much chilling, intense hatred that Kevin, who'd thought he knew her well, almost reared back in surprise at the pure venom in her stare. "Please find out for me who did it," she told the young man in a stony, deadly calm voice.   
  
~*~  
  
In the glow of a most garish (in his opinion) Muggle electric light that night, Draco Malfoy, a solemn expression on his face, started writing a letter that he would need the help of others to deliver.  
  
"Dear angel,  
  
I cast a curse upon an old friend and former teammate today... one that kills in stages, slowly.   
  
And I did so because it was the only chance that he could stay alive. Jugson had Avada Kedavra on his lips when I intervened.  
  
When you read of the wealthy and successful C. Warrington in St. Mungo's, in a comatose state... that's why.   
  
And I hope that Su Li, wherever she is, will understand someday..." 


	14. The Youngest Teachers

A/N: Thanks to all the reviewers! I swear to all and sundry that this fic will have a reasonably happy ending. In this chapter, the new school year starts... and we have two classes.   
  
Disclaimer: I don't plagiarise, thank you so very much.  
  
~*~  
  
They all wondered at the new Defense Professor's ability to teach... or to keep a class in order, on the first day of school. Su Li was a young woman, the youngest of the staff, looking petite and delicate in comparison to the tall and athletic Angelina Johnson, whom she sat next to during dinner the night before. She'd been quiet when Dumbledore introduced her, even when the Ravenclaw table burst into tumultous applause. But it was Cho Chang who gave her hand a slight squeeze, and oddly, the reserved Montague who gave her a sympathetic glance.   
  
She looked no less small and young as she stood in front of the class of 6th year Slytherins the next morning, matching the slight sneers that a few of them gave her with a blank expression, though her eyes were hard. "Well then," she addressed the class in an even voice of almost forced cool, "I believe that your last instructor left off on the topic of facing Dementors and the Patronus Charm, yes?"  
  
Cecilia Pyre, a Slytherin girl who fancied herself the beauty of her house, gave the young Oriental woman an insolent look from third row. "Yes," she sneered slightly, flipping her blonde hair behind her shoulder. "Not that you'd know anything about it, PROFESSOR."  
  
Su raised a haughty eyebrow in a manner so uncannily Slytherin-like that Cecilia blinked in surprise. "It would perhaps be best, Ms. Pyre... not to test what I know, and rather, to learn what I teach you."  
  
"And what DO you know?" The reckless Cecilia continued, unsatisfied, "You're barely grown up. And with you coming from... where you did... I doubt that you'd know any---mmph!"  
  
Her words were abruptly cut off as Su Li, reflexes quick as a whip, cast an abrupt and precise Muffling Charm upon her lips. The small Asian woman's face was cold. "That shall be enough on the subject of my qualifications, whereabouts, or heritage. If you are QUITE finished, Ms. Pyre, and if the rest of you have no more questions, kindly turn to chapter seven of the textbook?"  
  
The class silently did so, a few of the Slytherins giving her very cautious looks. Li ignored all the stares, and proceeded to lecture. And even after the Muffling Charm on Cecilia Pyre's mouth wore off, the girl remained silent, pouting as she wrote her notes down.  
  
Emma Dobbs, sitting next to her roommate, had shaken her head in a warning that Cecilia didn't heed when the latter had sassed at their blank-faced teacher. Unlike the deplorably ignorant Cecilia, she DID know who Su Li was. The latter had even tutored her and a few others, once or twice in her Prefect days, in the very class that she now taught.  
  
And then there was the fact, which Emma kept carefully hidden from the quiet, no-nonsense young woman with her dark, hard eyes, that her own parents had been the ones to suggest the use of a certain man's company as a base for Death Eater operations.  
  
Warrington had been from her House. A sharp-witted and snarky but usually good-humoured Head Boy and Quidditch player. She had been his replacement on the Quidditch team when he had left the school.   
  
Apparently, her parents, Desmond Jugson, Rodolphus Lestrange and Draco Malfoy had not been the only ones to visit Warrington that fateful day, though how exactly Su Li had escaped the clutches of the Death Eaters was something that her parents refused to discuss even when they didn't know that she was listening. Although calling the Chinese woman a "shameless Mudblood whore" gave some sort of insight, biased though it certainly was, on what sort of relationship the new Defense teacher had had with Warrington before he'd been hit by that deadly curse.  
  
It also explained why Su's expression became cold whenever Death Eaters were mentioned in her hearing.  
  
Lowering the eyes that were the same colour as her mother's and hoping that Su had not gotten a clear view of her parents' faces, Emma went through Defense lessons quiet and obedient. Despite her youth, Professor Li soon established the reputation as one of the most strict instructors in the school, and even the disgruntled students who muttered about the "little ice bitch" certainly never did it anywhere where she might possibly hear and thus incur her formidable wrath.  
  
~*~  
  
If Su Li's manner was cold and curt, all competence and no nonsense, the new Herbology teacher, who was replacing a muchly-grateful Professor Grubbly-Plank (who insisted that though she certainly knew her wizarding fauna, she was utterly mystified by flora), was warm, almost diffident, and greeted HIS first class with a shy smile when they came into Greenhouse Three.  
  
Ginny's face broke into a smile when she saw him. "Neville!" Recollecting herself a moment after, she blushed somewhat. "I mean... Professor Longbottom. How have you been?"  
  
Neville gave her a light smile and answered that he had been all right. "We'll have to talk a bit after class, if you have time. Congratulations on making Head Girl, too. Your parents must be very proud..." All the pleasantries. There would have to be no suspicions.  
  
An hour of pruning Caraway, and Ginny made her excuses to her roommates before setting down her bookbag and walking up to her old friend. "What's the matter?"  
  
"Oh, just... this," Neville reached into his pocket and withdrew a tightly rolled sheet of parchment. "Pansy asked me to give this to you."  
  
Ginny was mystified. What could Pansy want with her?  
  
But five minutes later found her sitting down on one of the benches, her eyes teary and a half-smile on her face. Neville awkwardly patted her shoulder. "Y-you can write back to him, Gin. I will make sure that he gets it."  
  
"Would you?" Ginny murmured, almost to herself, "But you've no reason to..."  
  
"You love him, he loves you, and anything to help a friend," Neville said laconically, "But... I'm keeping you from Charms, aren't I?" 


	15. Book to Battle

A/N: And there is Draco in this chapter, in his current life. And then, the beginning of battleness in Hogsmeade. The next chapter shall be entirely battleness. Because that is fun. Read and review, please!  
  
I have several people to thank, without whom this story would never have gotten off the ground/out of the bunny closet.   
  
Mynuet: Thank you SO much for all the talks, inspiration, plottings, and general encouragement. I admire you (fangirl, more like) as a writer, but value you even more as a friend. 333 you, Sharlene!  
  
ChainedDove: Thank you for being the always-w00bie crazy shipper and overall plotter. D/G RULES, and just... love you to bits. Not to mention, without you, there would be no such thing as Roggie/Cho, etc. etc... either ;)  
  
Sky: Thank you so very much for your continuing support, even when I'm being an annoying bint... and especially, thanks for being such a great sounding board for my mad ideas. 333!  
  
Kimmie: Thank you for bringing Emma, her backstory and the Emma/Seamus ship into the world. I 333 you!  
  
All Lovely Reviewers: Thank you for taking the time to read this bit of overblown angst from me and offering feedback on it. You don't understand how much I (or my inner review whore) appreciate it!   
  
Disclaimer: This is where I claim innocence, you smile and nod, and the men in white lab coats drag me away.  
  
~*~  
  
During the day he wore a nauseatingly Muggle wig, and he figured that had Ron Weasley seen him like that, the great prat would never let him hear the end of it.   
  
A Malfoy with a head of strawberry-blonde, almost ginger hair, in cherubic curls no less. And glasses (though still more stylish than those ugly things that Potter wore). Glasses charmed with a spell repelling recognition by the wizarding world.   
  
He went by the name of Galen Wells, and worked at a book shoppe close to this 'home'. Pansy had been meticulous in helping him plan... and he reflected somewhat wryly that it was good, after all. Longbottom certainly needed someone who was just so efficient and organized about things. Even when the occasional witch or wizard ever graced his workplace with his or her presence, no one knew him for who he was (or more dangerously, what he was). Mandy Brocklehurst and Stephen Cornfoot walked in together, bought a copy of War and Peace, and left the store without a spark of recognition as the quiet man behind the counter as he took their money.  
  
It was Sunday evening, towards the end of his shift. A slow day, and at the moment, sitting in the small cafe that afforded book shoppe patrons with tea and toast and the like, he sat at a table with one of his coworkers. A man in late middle age, perhaps nearing fifty, his hair flecked with gray and a pair of gold-wire reading glasses on his nose. He'd worked there, at this insignificant-almost-to-the-point-of-shabbiness little establishment, a gentle book-lover Muggle who tipped his hat gallantly at the ladies and carried a picture of his wife and sproglets in his wallet. Rob Markley had always been kind; showing the way around the store, patiently (oh so terribly patiently) explaining how everything worked... Rob had never thought it odd that a young man of nineteen, with no traces of a foreign accent, took several days just to become accustomed to the currency.  
  
"Ah... it's nearing Christmastime," Rob took a sip of his tea and smiled, "Going home for Christmas? Or perhaps somewhere warmer, lad?"  
  
Draco had never been called 'lad' in his childhood. "No," he answered simply. "I don't really have any family."  
  
And here Rob looked astonished for a moment, and then stricken. "Why that's not right... you have to spend Christmas with someone... it's not right to spend it alone..."  
  
Draco gave a light shrug, "Perhaps some other year, I'll be luckier."  
  
Rob nodded, still apparently quite troubled over the whole thing. "Say, if you find yourself too lonesome on Christmas, you're welcome to come to my house. The wife won't mind, and I'm sure the little ones will love you. My wife makes a brilliant Christmas pudding, too..."  
  
"I thank you for your offer," Draco replied civilly and rather noncommittally. Rob grinned and finished his tea.  
  
"Good woman, my wife is... met her when we were both just babes, really... her mum was friends with my mum. Name's Betsy. Always generous... she'd love to meet you, I'm sure. And the kids... Bobby Junior, Mary, Little Mike, and Annie, ages twelve, eleven, eight and three. You have any brothers or sisters, lad?"  
  
Draco shook his head again, a small, wry smile finally visible at the corners of his lips. He didn't have any siblings, that was true... but someone else did -- an overabundance of git brothers.  
  
"Now, now... that's the spirit. Be happy and smile, I always say," Rob chuckled, "And let me in on the joke, too."  
  
Joke? "Er... nothing," Draco quickly said, "Just someone... my... girl. She had a lot of siblings."  
  
"Oh, your GIRL..." Now Rob perked up visibly, eyes glinting, "What's she like?"  
  
'Just the type of girl you'd die for. Just the type that you'd kill for. Just the type that you're not supposed to love, who is too good for you by far, and whose brothers have good reason for wanting to kill you on sight.' Well. He couldn't say THAT. "She's... spunky. A year younger than me. She's... away right now. But we keep in touch. Pretty. Has this huge family and really annoying brothers. Ruddy gits, the lot of them... but she's just... sweet. And stubborn and feisty and too GOOD."  
  
"Sounds like quite the lass you have," Rob grinned, "What's her name, then?"  
  
And Draco's face was completely serious and steady when he gave the immediate reply. "Angel."  
  
And then the hellish burning started in his forearm, the omen of ill, and he stood up, expressionless as he made his excuses.  
  
~*~  
  
The village of Hogsmeade was beautiful in the wintertime, and the students always looked forward to Hogsmeade weekends.   
  
This day was no exception, and under the supervision of Professors Vector, Montague, Johnson and Li, many students from third year through seventh rode the coaches to the village, filling Honeydukes, The Three Broomsticks, and Zonko's with their irrepressible exuberance.   
  
Su Li stood alone, her slim back against the wall of the Post Office, watching the people walk past, as still as they were rushed.   
  
For the sake of politeness, Angelina Johnson, with a small smile, invited the younger woman to join her and Montague for lunch. With similar politeness and a smile belied by the slightly haunted look in her eyes, declined, saying that she wasn't hungry.   
  
BY mid-afternoon, most of the students were starting to congregate, preparing to go back to Hogwarts. The sky darkened early these days... it was nearing the Solstice.   
  
But students were still wandering around the streets when there was a loud, thunderous BOOM in the sky, except there was no rain. Lurid green against the gray clouds was a Dark Mark, and then came the screams.  
  
Now Su jumped, as if hit with a shock, from where she'd been standing, and with eyes narrowed, ran forward, meeting Angelina Johnson, who was running out of the store. "We need to get the students out of here."  
  
Within moments, the Prefects had been mobilized, ushering students into carriages even as various Hogsmeade inhabitants and teachers lined up, faces filled with anything from fear to stony determination, to hold off the encroaching threat. And as the Death Eaters swarmed in, the students swarmed out.  
  
Even as the first spells erupted in the air, Ginny watched from the window of her coach, her arm comfortingly around a small, whimpering third-year Hufflepuff as their conveyance rapidly sped away. She thought she might have seen him... but soon the air was dense with smoke and sparks and then everything was too far away and small to make out.  
  
But indeed, Draco WAS there, and he had been found. Su Li, her face utterly blank except for the look of complete and absolute hatred in her eyes, was facing him, her wand drawn in a fighting stance. There was a score to settle. 


	16. Fury

A/N: Yes, I realized that the chapter ended with a cliffhanger. I couldn't do it any other way, or 'twould have become too long. Well. Anyway. Back to your regularly scheduled ficcing and cliffhanger resolving. Oh yes. And battleness. And minor character shippiness. Yes.   
  
Disclaimer: *Yawn* Don't own. Wouldn't want to be Warrington, either. His girl is a force to be reckoned with when she's pissed.   
  
~*~  
  
Kevin had given her the necessary information months ago.  
  
Casting Stunning spells on two Death Eaters in rapid succession, Su made her relentless way towards Draco. Of course she'd know who it was... despite the mask that obscured his face, the white-blond hair was unmistakable.   
  
"Malfoy," she called out, her voice gone completely cold and flat. "So pleased that you could make it."  
  
Draco's face, though it was not visible behind the mask, started in recognition. A small, slim Oriental woman, her face much chillier than the last time he'd seen her. She didn't know all; that much was clear.   
  
"I would kill you right now," Su's voice was low and venomous, forced out between clenched teeth, "Except I'd rather wait until after I force the names of your accomplices from between your bloodied lips." But she raised her wand in a grand motion over her head, a curse flying from her lips. "DERUPIO CAPILLUS!"  
  
No time for explanations at present, not when the righteously furious girl was firing spells at him with intent to maim, if not murder. "INSTAURO PELOTUM!" he quickly countered, the two spells cancelling each other out as they met with a bang in the air. "Li, you're wrong..."  
  
"CEPHALARGIA!" she shot another hex at him. "Don't try to deny it, you bastard," her voice held something besides anger, "If it weren't for YOU, he'd not be in a coma."  
  
Her spell nearly hit him, and he abruptly countered it, "Yes... if it weren't for me, he'd be DEAD."  
  
Not impressed, she continued fighting him, the fury in her heart building, overflowing like lava from her chest to her limbs, her eyes terrible as she cast curse after curse at him. She WOULD win, and after she'd forced him to his knees for all the pain he'd caused not to her, and he didn't attack her back, merely countered, and it was confusing and infuriating but dammit, she WOULDN'T cry.  
  
Even as he countered another spell (intended to set fire to his skin) from her, he noticed Millium and Eyonia Dobbs, approaching Su's back, both with wands drawn. Grimacing behind his now-sweaty mask, he hoped that she would believe him and do what he told her to. In an urgent voice loud enough for her to hear, but not for the two advancing Death Eaters, he called out, "Li, when I nod, DUCK... and then you can continue trying to kill me." A Shaking hex from her hit his shoulder, sending him reeling slightly backwards. Swearing slightly to himself, he caught her eye, and as he steadied himself, raised his wand in the air, and gave a nod.  
  
Su wasn't quite sure what, in that moment, made her believe him and duck out of the way, but then he was casting the Killing Curse, the jet of green light leaving his wand zooming past over her head and hitting Millium Dobbs square in the chest.   
  
From the vantage-point of Eyonia Dobbs, Draco Malfoy had cast a sudden Avada Kedavra, intent on killing the little mudblood he was dueling with. But the young woman had ducked out of the way at the last moment, and the spell that had been meant for her... had hit Eyonia's husband instead. The enraged female Death Eater, with a scream of fury, drew a knife from her robes and rushed bodily at Su, who'd whipped around to see Millium fall.   
  
Su leapt out of the blade's path, kicking out a leg in a graceful sweep that tripped the older woman, and within the space of several seconds that seemed infinitely longer than they actually were, Eyonia fell, her face still contorted in rage, upon the sharp point of her own knife. And the blood poured out to stain the snow scarlet, a few drops hitting the toe of Su's shoe.  
  
Draco's voice was wry when he addressed the shell-shocked Su. "Well, Li... you have your revenge. THEY were the ones who suggested his place for use anyway. Had it not been for me, they would have killed him after seeing you there. You should be thanking me."  
  
Su Li merely moved away wordlessly, her face still a mask of shock, and continued on her slightly dazed way, felling Death Eaters (true ones) in her path.  
  
~*~  
  
Angelina Johnson quickly swiped the back of her hand over her damp forehead as she held off the masked man facing her with a combination of spells and quick reflexes. The students were gone... that was important. She'd lost sight of her fellow faculty members, though, with the pandemonium that was Hogsmeade's main street. Last time she'd seen either Solan Montague, Su Li or Yseult Vector had been when the students had been rushed away.  
  
And then a slew of Death Eaters had advanced upon them, separating them further and further apart, and even as reinforcements in the form of Magical Law Enforcement Squad hit wizards and Aurors came streaming into Hogsmeade, she found it impossible to get loose from the Death Eaters who seemed to be blocking her way at every step.  
  
Even as she sent one Death Eater flying through the air with a Banishing Charm, another appeared, his eyes sinister as he opened his mouth to fire a spell.   
  
Angelina had been on the verge of moving forward one moment, then found herself flying backwards, her back hitting the ground with a painful thud, stars appearing in her vision. Struggling, she tried to clamber back up to her feet, even as the Death Eater, cackling malevolently, loomed over her, wand pointed at her head.  
  
Montague, who had been clearing a corybantic group of civilians away from the fray, saw her fall, the masked man who'd cursed her standing over her in twisted triumph. From where he was standing, he had no idea if she were actually alive or...  
  
Things seemed to blur, oddly, in his line of vision as he unceremoniously dropped the arm of the young boy he'd been leading out of harm's way. His nostrils flaring and the handsome face wearing a look of violent aggression that had been put away since he'd left school and such things as House and Quidditch rivalries behind, he made his way forward, cutting a straight, ruthless path through all who stood in his way.   
  
It was almost like the Quidditch games of old, except there was a different target, and it was infinitely more important than putting a Quaffle through a hoop. Physically elbowing and shoving people out of the way even as he hexed every Death Eater in his line of vision, he fought and stormed his way through the crowds.  
  
The Death Eater who'd cursed Angelina had been momentarily distracted when one of his comrades had been hit in the back with a de-boning hex that sent him collapsing to the ground in like a pile of limp noodles tangled in black robes. Moving towards his comrade, Desmond Jugson nearly crashed into Montague.   
  
Before Jugson could react, the younger man had bodily pushed him backward, and as Jugson stumbled, snarling, the former Quidditch player pulled back a fist and hit the Death Eater right in between the two eye-holes on the mask. And even as the older man's eyes began to water in pain, blood spurting from his nose to stain the mask, Montague threw him aside, a Binding hex on his lips rooting the Death Eater to the spot upright and unable to move. And then his path was free.   
  
Bending down and quickly lifting his ex-rival off the ground and into his arms, he frowned somewhat, before breathing an audible sigh of relief when she shifted and opened her eyes... eyes filled, though, with pain. "My leg..."  
  
"We're leaving," Montague told her, breaking into a jog as he made his way towards Quality Quidditch Supplies, "You're safe now... more than I can say for that little shit who hurt you."  
  
"Profanity's not your style," she remarked drolly, looking up into his blue eyes as he unceremoniously grabbed the nearest broom off the rack and straddled it, still holding onto her with one arm and lowering the other to grip the broomstick and steer. Within seconds, they were out of the store, rising into the air. "Neither is theft."  
  
"Neither is friendship, love, blind, consuming rage or bodily breaking Death Eater noses," he retorted, steadily flying towards Hogwarts with her still firmly ensconced against his chest. "But I suppose desperate times call for desperate measures." 


	17. Aftermath of the End

A/N: Yes, yes, I realize that it has been days since I last updated. See, there is this little thing called NaNoWriMo. Also known as "National Novel Writing Month". Meaning that Thalia has to pull 50000 words out of her ass before 1 December. Have been working obsessively on that. Forgive. Now that I have a bit more than 1/10 of the thing done, shall take a short break on it to bequeath you with more overblown angst. Well that, and the fact that Mynuet is blackmailing me *eyetwitch*... *ahem* Yes. Moving onwards...  
  
Disclaimer: Am being whipped into cooperation (in a completely un-naughty way) by Mynuet. Am powerless and still lack ownership of Slytherin Quidditch Gods. m000...  
  
~*~  
  
Nightfall.  
  
Everyone who had been in Hogsmeade that day had returned, most with haggard, wary faces. There were several who had relatives in the little village, and several more who knew that their family or loved ones had fought, on one side or another, in the battle.  
  
The doors were locked. No one was allowed to leave the castle until it was deemed safe.   
  
Prefects patrolled the hallways, monitoring to make sure that everyone was safe in their Common Rooms. Ginny Weasley and Emma Dobbs wordlessly met each other in the Great Hall, and headed towards the direction of the History of Magic corridor.  
  
They continued down the empty hallway for several paces, before Ginny, an expression of determination on her face, faced the rival Slytherin Quidditch captain. "Dungeons, twenty minutes."  
  
Emma slowly nodded, understanding the implications, and the two Prefects parted in the hallway where no one ever loitered.  
  
~*~  
  
An hour later found Ginny and Emma quietly crawling out of a secret gate that faced the lake. Both were completely quiet as Emma locked it behind her, quietly murmuring a spell to erase their footprints in the snow even as she pulled the hood of her cloak over her head. Ginny shifted her bookbag, lightened with a spell and filled with various supplies, over her shoulder. Still silent, the two moved farther and farther away from the castle, down the same road that the carriages had taken earlier.  
  
Hogsmeade was quiet and dark when they arrived, no more signs of battle, though the streets were filled with people both moving and still.   
  
"Aurors," Emma whispered to Ginny, eyeing their robes as the two approached, heads down and footsteps quiet. I think they're trying to... sort things out, now."  
  
Cautiously, the two approached the village, Emma's eyes peeled for signs of her parents as Ginny looked for... well, many things, really. Draco. Her brothers. People to help... who could tell her things.  
  
"I don't see my parents anywhere," Emma began, but before she could even finish that statement, a burly man in Auror robes stepped straight into their path and grabbed each girl by an arm. One side of his mud-splattered face marred with a gash that ran from his cheekbone to his jaw, his hair (possibly brown, though it was too muddied to tell) matted to his head, his nose apparently having been broken recently, and the other side of his face not bleeding puffed up with a bruise the size of an apple. He might have been unrecognizable, except for the teeth.  
  
"What the hell are you two doing here?" he snarled, glaring down at both of them.  
  
~*~  
  
Ginny looked panicked and tried to yank her arm out of his grasp, but Emma merely glared back, Slytherin Chaser to former Slytherin Chaser, almost as if arguing over Quidditch tactics in the Common Room. "Not your business, Flint, let us go."  
  
"And here I thought you lot were supposed to have gone back to Hogwarts and stayed there," Flint barked, "Well? Looking for someone? As far as I know, none of your prat brothers are casualties. Although as I understand it, the dungbomb-bearing double-trouble duo managed to turn some Death Eater or another into a toothless alligator," Flint glowered at the Weasley girl.  
  
Emma looked somewhat impressed. "Which Death Eater was it?"  
  
"We are still trying to identify him... er... her... IT," Flint muttered, before rolling his eyes, "Unfortunately, gender distinction of zoo animals wasn't one of the chapters in 'The Auror's Training Manual'."  
  
Ginny waved a hand impatiently. "They'll change it back eventually, unless they need alligator parts for prank components..."  
  
Flint snorted, the action peculiar due to his injured nose. "And they call Slytherins evil."  
  
Emma cleared her throat, the sound betraying the first hint of nervousness that she had exhibited that evening. "Speaking of... evil Slytherins... would you happen to know what became of my parents?"  
  
Releasing Ginny's arm and using his sleeve to wipe away some of the blood trickling down his neck, he jerked his head in the direction of where two Aurors were carefully moving a pile of dead bodies. "Over there somewhere. Apparently one got hit by the Killing Curse and the other stabbed, although I'm not sure which is which."  
  
Emma froze, her face blanching a sickly snow-white. "My... parents... killed..." she managed to stammer out, her voice slightly choked, "Both of them?"  
  
Flint looked warily at the younger Slytherin's rapidly paling face and pulled away slightly. "That's what happens in battle, kid."  
  
Emma dropped to the ground, her hands rapidly clenching and unclenching as tears, coupled oddly with a strange, dreary smile, slipped down her face. "DEAD! Both of them... DEAD! Of their madness and megalomania... and... and...!" Ginny and the uncomfortable Flint only saw a glimpse of her face before she raised her hands to over it and started to sob... and laugh, shoulders shaking slightly with a twisted mix of hysterical grief and joy.  
  
"Urgh," Flint grumbled, raising his grimy hands to cover his ears, "Bloody hell... stop your caterwauling, girl... there is the unsavoury business of wading through piles of dead people to look for survivors still to be done, Merlin only knows how many were killed, civilian or otherwise, runaway Death Eaters to track down, and I can really use a Healing Potion and a firewhiskey right now. Mad female hysteria is REALLY not something I want to deal with... all right, kindly shut up unless you want all Aurors in a five kilometre radius to flock over, thinking that you're being killed as a virgin sacrifice. Unless you're going to make yourselves somewhat useful, go back to the castle and bawl over there."  
  
Even as Emma's brief bout of emotional distress started to abate, Ginny reached into one of her pockets and fished out a small vial of purple Healing Potion. "There, take that one, I have more."  
  
Flint squinted at it with his non-swollen eye, then his muddy, battered face cracked into a grin. "And where's the firewhiskey?"  
  
"No disrespect meant," Ginny mumbled with a straight face, "But you need a shower far more than you need a drink."  
  
The former Slytherin captain roared with laughter, then unceremoniously pointed her and the now-calming Emma towards the direction of more still bodies. "All right. Get to work, since you're here."  
  
Snapping a jaunty mock-salute marred by the Eye Roll of Ineffable Contempt, Ginny replied with a quick "Yes, SIR!" and moved gingerly towards a woman clutching her broken leg and moaning in pain.  
  
~*~  
  
By five o'clock in the morning, the small apothecary's worth of potions and supplies that had occupied Ginny's bookbag had been quite visibly reduced, and both girls, having cast Charms and dispensed Potions for several hours without rest, were about to fall asleep on their feet.   
  
Emma was on her fifth yawn after casting yet another Ferula charm to splint a boy's arm, when Flint, looking somewhat more weary but less battered, approached the two girls. "Well then, you two look a bit fagged."  
  
"Oh, really..." Ginny's voice was killingly bland.  
  
"Perhaps you should sleep a while," Flint remarked, as if stumbling upon a new truth of the universe. "Tent over there still empty. I'm sure they won't mind you enlarging the cot. Would be bad if we had you two as patients on top of everything else."  
  
"We thank you for your incredible thoughtfulness and caring nature," Emma remarked sarcastically as the Auror pulled them towards the tent in question with a snort. But as soon as they were inside, both looked at the cot with longing eyes, and Emma cast one last charm to enlarge the thing to twice its original size, and then the Gryffindor and Slytherin, not even close friends by any means, both lay down, side by side, and fell asleep within seconds of closing their eyes.  
  
~*~  
  
The daytime shift was starting, and the Aurors who had been working through the night started to return to their tents for some much-needed rest. A weary Roger Davies, rumpled dark hair falling into his eyes, pulled the flap of his tent open, took one look inside, and moved away with a very confused expression.  
  
"Er... would any of you be so kind as to enlighten me on why there are two young girls asleep in my bed?"  
  
"Because I wanted to frame you for bigamy with minors, get you arrested, and shag your woman while you're in Azkaban," Flint answered sardonically.  
  
Roger scowled at his former rival captain. "If it weren't for the fact that with you dead, I'd have to run the... graveyard shift alone, I would do something hideous and disfiguring to you right now. Shouldn't they be at Hogwarts?"  
  
"Ask THEM," Flint shrugged, "They came here by themselves at the dead of night."  
  
Roger sighed, gave another half-hearted glare at the former Slytherin, and walked back into his tent. Clearing his throat, he reached over and shook both girls by their shoulders.  
  
Ginny opened her eyes first, then blinked, startled, at the face of a former temporary Defense professor. "Er... Professor Davies?"  
  
"Call me Roger," he replied, "What are you doing here?"  
  
"Well... I think Emma wanted to find out what happened to her parents, and I... wanted to come help..." Ginny replied uncomfortably, "And then Flint came, and then we were put to work, and..."  
  
"And you should be back in Hogwarts, both of you," Roger said gently, "Here, do you think you can make the trip back?"  
  
Both girls nodded, scrambling to their feet and trying to smooth down their rumpled robes. Ginny picked up her bookbag.  
  
Roger nodded slowly. "All right. I will escort you back to Hogwarts, you two. Come on..."  
  
~*~  
  
It was too early for visitors, and Cho Chang was brushing her long hair, still damp from a shower, when there came a soft knock on the door. Throwing on a blue bathrobe, she walked, barefoot, from the bathroom, through her quarters, and towards the door. "Who is it?" she called out softly, just as she pulled it open.  
  
And stared, her wand dropping from nerveless fingers and her mouth falling open, eyes drifting from a dusty Auror's robe slowly upwards towards his face, even more weary than it had been, some six months back, but wearing a relieved smile and love shining in his gaze...  
  
"Roger?" she whispered, her voice quivering and incredulous even as scalding tears began to swim in her eyes, "Roger! You... you're HERE..."  
  
Roger's explanations about how he had brought back some students, and wanted to see if she were alive and well after the Hogsmeade visit yesterday with the battle, along with all of his good intentions, were abruptly cut short when he found his arms full of soft, sobbing woman, her face buried in his neck as she clung to him, crying her relief that he had survived, that he was really here. He had put his arms around her to catch her when she launched herself at him, but his embrace tightened a moment later, and he walked forward two steps, into her quarters and kicking the door shut with his foot. Roughened fingers tangling slowly through her wet, cool hair, he cupped her chin and claimed her mouth.  
  
It had been too long, and too much, and things had been way too dark, and even as she tried to still her sobs, taking great, gulping breaths between frantic kisses, he was trying to rein in the fire inside before it blazed out of control, keeping his hands with conscious effort on her waist. But she understood; Cho always understood, because they knew each other like that from all the past years' closeness, and she was the one to pull him down to her as she fell backwards onto a couch, fingers nimbly moving over the fastenings of his robes as he buried his face in the hair by her neck and breathed.   
  
"I've missed you..." Cho whispered out as his lips brushed against her collarbone, her voice slightly thick. She wasn't sure when her bathrobe got unfastened, but with the way he was touching her, she couldn't make her mind work enough to remember.   
  
"I'm back now," he murmured against her bare, smooth skin as he shrugged out of his robes. And that was the extent of the speaking for a long time.  
  
Much later, she opened her eyes and cupped his face with delicate hands. "When do you have to go back to the field?"  
  
"Today..." he answered, then added, "But not to fight. To clean up... to re-organize and restore."  
  
At her confused expression, he gently told her the news that thus far, none at Hogwarts knew. "Late last evening, in the middle of Hogsmeade, Harry Potter and Lord Voldemort faced off in a duel... the last duel. Only one man came out of that alive."  
  
She gasped.  
  
"Lord Voldemort is dead." 


	18. Hope Reborn

A/N: I just realized, quite suddenly, that this fic is on the home stretch and shall be finished at 20 chapters. When it comes to this step, expect said chapters to be whipped out fairly quickly. This is good, yes?  
  
Disclaimer: I am owned by the characters, not the other way around.  
  
~*~  
  
The next few months passed in a haze in the aftermath of that final battle. There were so many people on both sides, who needed to be accounted for, and the ministry was effectually dividing its time between the affairs of those who survived the ones killed in battle, and trying to stamp out any last-ditch Death Eater uprisings.  
  
But at Hogwarts, there was a decided change in the mood.  
  
Just as the cold, blustery winter ended, the weather gradually warming with the occasional storm but ever-increasing sunshine, the ones left behind to live... stepped out of the chilly, dark world to face the new world.   
  
When the snow melted, Neville's greenhouses started flourishing with new, fresh plants of the springtime.   
  
The notes continued to come. How exactly she would repay Neville and Pansy (though the first would be too kind and the second too proud to accept payment from her), she did not know.  
  
"Dear angel,  
  
They have taken Malfoy Manor. Pansy tells me that the Ministry had combed the old place down... looking for dark artifacts, and for me.  
  
I cannot see you until things are cleared up. I miss you..."  
  
His notes were always to the point, rarely full of sentimentality. Full of news, perhaps... but concise and brief. And always, towards the end, there would be something that she would be able to smile about, perhaps repeat to herself in the ever-boring History of Magic classes and cherish.  
  
"... I WILL come back. Things won't always be this way. I'm sick of this, but it won't be much longer. And I'm going to check for myself whether you still have that little birthmark on the back of your neck. You're still mine."  
  
Ginny waited, and continued on with her life.  
  
~*~  
  
It was March when 6th year Emma Dobbs of Slytherin and 7th year Ginny Weasley of Gryffindor shook hands in the middle of the Quidditch pitch.   
  
It very well might have been the first time in a decade that a Slytherin and a Gryffindor captain gave each other civil looks before their teams faced off for a game. But, if not close, the two girls had learnt to work together.  
  
As Cho Chang released the Quaffle and both Natalie McDonald and Emma Dobbs zoomed off for it, Professors Montague and Johnson, watching the game from the faculty stands, smiled wryly.   
  
"I say that Gryffindor is going to win," Johnson remarked with a slight smile. "Ginny is a fairly good Seeker."  
  
"But Gryffindor's Chasers aren't quite up to scratch this year," Montague replied with a smirk, "They are not quite as experienced as they could be."  
  
"Slytherin's Chasers don't seem to have changed much," Angelina looked at him, her eyes slightly teasing, "Pritchard seems to find elbowing quite the useful tactic."  
  
He gave her an infuriating, smug sort of look, "It can be."  
  
Swatting him in the arm gently, Angelina made a face. "And here I had thought you had changed for the better."  
  
"I have not elbowed you since we were both in school," he retorted, "And I AM a Slytherin."  
  
"Yes, yes... ohh, that was close," for Marius MacDougal, the Slytherin Keeper, had missed a save, "Charismatic but evil, ambitious, sarcastic, that sort of thing..."  
  
"Whereas you," he returned, clapping politely when Emma Dobbs scored, "are an innocent, idealistic, heroic angel of Gryffindor goodness, yes?"  
  
"Is that a compliment?" she grinned at him, giving an exaggerated bat of her eyelashes.  
  
"Take it whatever way you please," he told her with a chuckle. "And... goodness, I think they've spotted the Snitch!"  
  
Ginny dove for the small golden sphere, Slytherin Seeker Price Barton at her heels, and got knocked out of the way by a Bludger. The Snitch disappeared again, and the game continued.  
  
The Slytherins cheered once again when Emma Dobbs put another shot past Jerry Donnelly, the Gryffindor Keeper. Montague clapped again, and Angelina's eyes widened in surprise when she saw someone who was sitting amongst the Gryffindors, cheering as well.  
  
"Isn't that Seamus Finnigan?" Montague, following Angelina's gaze, peered through his omniculars. "He's cheering for Slytherin... that's a first."  
  
Had Montague taken a look at Emma's face when she flew past the Gryffindor stands, he might have understood why.  
  
~*~  
  
Brushing her sweat-soaked bangs away from her eyes, rubbing a sore shoulder where Malcolm Baddock had caught her with a Bludger, the Gryffindor Seeker put her broom away in the shed.   
  
The game, long, as Gryffindor/Slytherin games have a tendency to be, was over, and it was now sunset, the sky brilliant with splashes of rose and purple, the outline of the trees like black lace against iridescent satin.   
  
Ginny was the last of the Gryffindors to head back towards the castle, taking the extra time to put the brooms back in order, and helping Cho Chang put away the Quidditch equipment.  
  
She had nearly reached the door when she heard the sound of footsteps thudding, running across the Quidditch pitch, light and yet fast and determined, and the sound of laughter, bright and boisterous.  
  
She halted, under the shadow of the door, and slowly turned around. Who would laugh like that? So completely... with such FULFILLMENT? Her team had won... but even THEY were not that exuberant.  
  
And moreover, it wasn't one of their voices.  
  
She turned around just in time to see an emerald and silver blur, dark hair flying behind her, dashing towards a young man who had just come down from the stands, his sandy hair glinting slightly in the dying sunlight. A nymph of the dark wood coming out to embrace her knightly lover in the sunset, the man catching the girl in his arms, his face buried in her tangled hair even as she threw her arms around his neck, with the impulsive-seeming motion of forever.  
  
And suddenly she understood why Emma Dobbs was crying and laughing that other day, when she heard that her parents were dead.  
  
It was the natural reaction, after all.  
  
Of someone caught in the web of fear and intrigue and forbidden desires, of against-the-odds and shouldn't-be that was wartime passion...  
  
Free.  
  
She smiled at the back of her oblivious rival captain, and quietly stepped inside the castle. It would not be long before her own turn would come. 


	19. Teasing and Tears

A/N: Second to last chapter. Forgive lack of D/G. There will be D/G fanservice for all in the last chapter. I promise. They will have their happy ending. All that stuff. And until then, enjoy this chapter and keep all whips away from me? *beseeching smile*  
  
Disclaimer: I might have breathed life into the bloke, but Su isn't the type of girl to share.   
  
~*~  
  
It was in the middle of the night when the man opened his eyes.   
  
That he was not at the same place he last remembered being in... that much was obvious. As he shook his head, wincing slightly at the pain and trying to make sense of everything, he stiffened, with a grim expression. "Su!"  
  
Quick footsteps, and then the door to his room opened, the silhouette of a female figure with curly hair standing at the doorway. Warrington squinted. "Who are you, and where the hell am I?"  
  
"St. Mungo's," came a soft, gentle voice, "And my name is Penelope Clearwater. Do you remember me?"  
  
"Ravenclaw," he rasped out, "What time is it, and where is Su? You know Su, right?"  
  
Penelope the nurse carefully walked into the room, igniting a lamp with her wand and handing him a glass of water. "It's three minutes past one o'clock, and it's the 2nd of April, 1999..."  
  
"Fucking hell," Warrington almost choked on his water, "Last time I checked, it was July 1998..."  
  
Even as Penelope quietly explained what had happened between that time and the present, the man in the bed, grimacing slightly at the pain in his unused joints, tried to sit up and move. Atrophy-stopping Charms not-withstanding, he had to school his brain, which was trying to focus on the nurse's words, to make his limbs move.  
  
"... And the war ended, about two months ago," Penelope concluded, "But from what I heard, no one from Hogwarts was injured in the last battle."  
  
THERE! He was able to bend his knees and sit up straight, though he felt weak as a newborn. "And Su?"  
  
"Well, as she has been teaching Defense this past year at Hogwarts," Penelope said candidly, "Of course she would be included in that group. My fiance... he was there at the last battle in Hogsmeade. He's an Auror... and I don't think he mentioned her as a casualty. Why do you ask, though?"  
  
"We had an unfinished discussion," Warrington's pale lips curved into a slight grin. "Say, when can I get out of here?"  
  
~*~  
  
On a sunny day in mid-April, a class of 3rd years were attending Defense Against the Dark Arts, being given a lesson on demon-repelling spells. Su Li was busily lecturing and writing out notes at such a furious pace that the students could barely keep up. Though they knew better than to NOT stay alert, quiet and on task.  
  
But even then, a few students turned around when the door of the classroom opened silently, and a tall young man, whom a few recognized as a former Slytherin, Head Boy and Chaser, walked into the classroom. Li was still writing, and the man who'd just entered put a finger to his lips before the closest student could call out.   
  
And as the students watched, bewildered, Warrington took a seat towards the back of the classroom, near the door, giving all and sundry a smarmy sort of grin before taking out a sheet of paper and a quill.  
  
And then, despite their habits of complete obedience in the class, a few students started whispering. What was he DOING there? He looked pale, like he'd just recovered from from some long illness. And why was he scribbling down things on a sheet of parchment just like a student?  
  
"Quiet!" Li called out, still writing notes down. "Pay attention, class!"  
  
When the whispers didn't die down, for the first time since the beginning of the school year, she'd frowned. And then, in her peripheral vision, a small paper airplane whizzed past, amidst giggles from the students.  
  
Su scowled darkly. What was with the class today?!  
  
"WHO THREW THAT?!" Whipping around to face the class, chalk in hand and angry scowl on her face, she surveyed the class with snapping eyes...  
  
Which widened to astonishing proportions, as the chalk dropped from nerveless fingers and her face paled to the colour of ivory.  
  
And Warrington, sitting in the back, his hands folded on the desk top and a patently beatific expression upon his face, widened his eyes and pointed to the little blonde Hufflepuff sitting in front of him. "SHE did it, Professor, I swear!"  
  
And even as the girl protested with a high-pitched "I did NOT!", Su felt her knees buckle, her mouth going dry and her vision suddenly blurring with tears. And then, almost as fast as if he'd Apparated, he was standing next to her, hands warm and strong on her arms, steadying her before she could fall. "As much as the idea of a woman swooning all over me has its intrinsic appeal, you're going to get chalk dust in your hair, sweetheart."  
  
When she finally found her voice, it was shaking as much as the hand she lifted to touch his face. He WAS paler, cheekbones standing out... but it was him and he was THERE and damn it all, smirking at her as if nothing had happened and it was just another THING and... "You're... alive... you're really HERE..." she whispered hoarsely, her lips trembling.  
  
"Apparently so. Commendations on the astute observation," he drawled, looking down at her face. "What WILL you think of next?"  
  
"You utter BASTARD," she muttered thickly, and just as he was about to thank her with that typically smarmy grin upon his face, she'd raised herself up on tiptoe, throwing her arms around him and nearly shoving him against the wall, lips fused with his and fingers locked behind his neck, leaning closer in when he slid his arms around her waist. She hazily noticed the class giving whistles and catcalls, but she couldn't let go... she hadn't felt so warm for so long.   
  
One of the students' remarks, however, brought her somewhat back to reality. "Wonder if she'll be less demanding after a good shag..." And Su, lips dewy and swollen, eyelashes still somewhat lowered, pulled away, though not out of his arms.  
  
"Detention with Filch tonight, if that answers your question, Mr. Brockman. Class dismissed." There would be gossip, but at the moment, Su's mind and heart was overflowing with so many OTHER things, among them anger and pain and hysteria and relief and shock and love and the secret tears that she'd shed... and when he reached out for her again, she glared at him with overflowing eyes. SLAP! "You... you... how DARE you DO that that day do you even REALIZE... ..." And then she was yelling, everything coming out in a peculiar incoherent mix of Chinese and English, all the worry and the pain and her face was flushed, her hair shaking as she clenched her fists and hit him in the shoulder.  
  
Wincing slightly, he grabbed her wrists, "Now, now, pet... calm down..."  
  
Rather than obeying this simple direction, Su Li gave him a long look, and then quite abruptly burst into stormy tears.   
  
It WAS something of a shock, he supposed, and accordingly, Cassius Warrington released her thin wrists, pulling her back into his arms and reaching up with an uncharacteristic gentleness to stroke her hair as she sobbed against his chest, shoulders shaking and tears soaking through his shirt. They simply stood like that for several minutes, no one keeping track, in silence as everything went from cold to chaos to the way they were supposed to be again, slowly but surely. And then, with a half-sniffle, half-hiccup, she finally shifted to look up to see him giving her a little smirk. "I am grateful for the warm welcome. Now... the note."  
  
She laughed weakly as she wiped her eyes with the back of one hand, peering over at the airplane that had landed on her desk. Unfolding it, she read the message, and felt the beginnings of a very wide grin tugging at the corners of her lips. "I think Professor Li is quite beautiful. A name change and shagging, though, would do her a world of good. There's one way of addressing this issue nicely at the same time. Besides, Professor Warrington sounds better anyway. Wouldn't you agree?"  
  
Walking slowly back over towards him, she took a deep breath, shutting her eyes for a few seconds before opening them again, sparkling like dark jewels on her face. "There's something distinctly Lockhart-ish about this whole... thing," she finally managed to say, a twitchy smile at the corners of her lips.  
  
He gave her a mock-scowl, "Now, you take that back, Li."  
  
"Oh? Or...?"  
  
"Or I shall not kiss you again." Though the look in his eyes spoke otherwise.  
  
"Is that so, Warrington?" she giggled slightly, peering up at him with an almost coy look.   
  
"Indeed. For at least another three seconds."  
  
"Heartless demon."  
  
"Perhaps," he reached out to take her hands in his, "But you do know that all you have to do is say yes in answer to my question... and then, we can progress to the sarcasm and snogging part."  
  
She moved his hands towards her shoulders, and slid effortlessly into his arms again, leaning her head against his chest. "As much as I hate to admit it, seems like a good plan," she whispered against the fabric of his shirt. "And I still have... this." Reaching into her blouse, she extracted a silver necklace, on which a small silver hoop hung like an odd pendant. Removing it from the chain, she handed it back to him.  
  
He took out his wand, waving it over the hoop and murmuring an incantation, and before her slightly teary eyes, it twisted slightly, changing in size to a silver band... with a sapphire in the middle. "Actually," he jibed as he slid the ring onto her slim finger, "I lied. You can keep it."  
  
And when he pressed his lips to hers, one hand resting on her waist and the other tangling through her hair, she was smiling. 


	20. Endings and Beginnings

A/N: This is it. The LAST CHAPTER. The t00by D/G reunion shall happen here, as promised. *sniff* Shall miss this fic. Hope that everyone has enjoyed reading it as much as I have enjoyed writing it! *glomps all around*   
  
Disclaimer: I am not redheaded, freckled or possessed of ebil protective big brothers enough to ever own Draco Malfoy. Not to mention, the fiance might object.  
  
~*~  
  
Even though May and June were a haze of activity, the continued restoration of order after the end of the war, and the NEWTs that truly lived up to their name of 'Nastily Exhausting Wizarding Tests' gave Ginny very little free time indeed, the general brightening of the atmosphere all around made it passable, even enjoyable at times.  
  
It had been the beginning of the year when the young staff had sat at the high table with solemn faces, all. Pale, wistful Miss Chang and bitter Professor Li and reserved Professor Montague...   
  
But this morning, Cho Chang was smiling, fresh-faced, eyes no longer filled with worry as she sipped her tea and read through the Daily Prophet. With less danger and worry came more contentment, and all of them have had more than enough excitement to last a lifetime.  
  
Su Li looked radiant, though her visitor was not present at the moment. Ginny had heard the mad, gossipy discussions of the third years of how a man had appeared out of the blue in her class. She remembered a letter that Draco had sent her, the first one, and smiled wryly at the Defense professor, who nibbled on her toast and chatted amicably with Professor Johnson about dueling. Something silver and blue sparkled on Su's finger.  
  
Angelina herself had healed from the wounds that she had received at the Hogsmeade battle, and through it all, she had not lost her good humour. Montague handed her the pitcher of coffee, and she thanked him. Gryffindors, Slytherins...  
  
Those who were left were all survivors, and as the darkness retreated from each person's life, all of them looked up and faced the light with smiles.   
  
Ginny's thoughts were interrupted when the doors to the Great Hall opened, and a young woman with dark blonde hair, dressed in fashionable, form-fitting robes of shell pink with a plunging neckline and sheer sleeves, high heels clicking on the uncarpetted floor, sauntered in, smirking slightly as a few boys followed her progress as she made her way to the high table.  
  
"Miss Parkinson," Dumbledore greeted the young woman pleasantly, "What brings you here today?"  
  
"Just a visit to my old school," the young woman drawled, glancing at Neville before surveying the students. "Shall I sit with the Slytherins, or...?"  
  
But a House Elf had already brought a chair over, and Neville moved towards the left so that there would be a space between him and Professor Moore of Ancient Runes. Pansy sank down into her seat with the grace of a queen, and as the conversations started in the Great Hall once more, gave Ginny a glance over her cup of coffee.  
  
~*~  
  
"Miss Weasley," Neville's quiet voice called out after the end of Herbology lessons, "If it is at all possible, can you please come to my office after your classes today?"  
  
"Yes, certainly," Ginny answered quickly. Neville's face was soft, but didn't betray any of what he would be telling her. Pansy, as far as she knew, had not left, though she was not present at the moment. It WAS odd, however, that Neville would request for her to go to his office, and not just one of the greenhouses.  
  
From Herbology, to Charms with Professor Johnson, to Arithmancy with Professor Vector. Then a hurried lunch, Defense Against the Dark Arts, Potions and finally, History of Magic. And then, Ginny left Professor Binns' classroom quickly, up one hall and down another, running down a staircase before reaching a wooden door. Knock.  
  
"Come in," it was Pansy's voice, not Neville's. Ginny frowned slightly, then pushed the door open.   
  
The woman was lounging in Neville's chair, looking completely at home. "Good afternoon, Weasley," she greeted Ginny coolly. "You only have a week of school left, isn't that right?"  
  
Ginny nodded. Pansy gave what could almost be a grin. "Well... I'm here to pass on a message. The last one."  
  
Ginny looked at her, startled, before the other woman handed her a rolled-up sheet of parchment and stood up from her seat.  
  
"I think that I shan't need to play messenger any more," Pansy drawled, "Now if you'll excuse me, I need to be off. Had promised Jeanna Dorny that I would help her pick out her wedding gown..."  
  
Heels clicking, her impeccably coiffed hair swinging behind her, Pansy swept out of the room, and Ginny quickly opened up the sheet of parchment.  
  
It wasn't Draco's handwriting. It was Pansy's, and it was brief and to the point.  
  
An address.  
  
~*~  
  
He woke early, and walked out into the yard to watch the sunrise.  
  
The ink-blue sky gradually lightened. It had been a cloudy night, the moon a thin, misty blur. But now, as there came a hint of crimson in the east, the darkness changed to vivid brilliancy as the smoky clouds became infused with rich purple and blushing rose and a glitter of gold.   
  
She had only Apparated a few times before, but she had made sure to say the incantation clearly. She could not go too close, of course, for it was a Muggle area, and as it was still dark, she walked silently down the empty streets, gazing at the numbers on the doors.  
  
But she didn't need to look too hard, after all. He was standing in his yard, his back facing the street, silvery blond hair glinting in the weak light. It had grown longer than she had remembered, reaching slightly past the nape of his neck. She bit her lip, and quickened her footsteps.  
  
Ginny reached him just as the day broke, and laid a soft, light hand on his shoulder as streaks of triumphant rose-red shot through the sky. He didn't turn around, and he didn't say anything, but even as she leaned her head (it had been so long) against his shoulder, his arm crept around her waist and drew her abruptly closer. They were not looking into each other's eyes, but into the distance, both of them silent with promise and time and the knowledge that THIS... this would be forever, the new beginning to the rest of their lives, and that nothing could stop them now.  
  
As the sky turned from navy to the blissful blue of forget-me-nots, Ginny finally turned to face him. His face was solemn, but his eyes had not changed. They still pierced into her soul, and she felt naked and exposed and FREE.   
  
And even as his arms crept slowly around her waist, she lifted her hands to cup his face, limpid, bright brown eyes meeting gray.  
  
"I've missed you," she whispered almost too softly to hear.   
  
And his lips curved into a genuine smile as he pulled her close. There would be many more dawns after the first. 


End file.
